Unwanted
by KassyMalone
Summary: When Francis' mother got married again, he found himself with four rowdy, dirty boys for brothers that he never wanted. As time passes, he notices that being unwanted is something the youngest brother, Arthur, knows pretty well. He tries to be a good big brother, but nothing is ever as easy as it seems, especially as romance and yet more new brothers get in the way.
1. Chapter 1

**Unwanted.**

When Francis Bonnefoys mother got married again, this time to a certain Henry Kirkland, the previously pampered and spoiled only child suddenly found himself at the tail end of five brothers, the rowdy, obnoxious, dirty and loud Kirkland boys. He immediately disliked every last one of them.

Henry rubbed him up the wrong way for a reason he couldn't quite put his finger on – he was kind to his mother, which was good of course, dressed and spoke nicely, had a good job, but… he annoyed Francis. Everything he did felt like nails on a blackboard to him. Each of his sons was annoying in his own particular way: Angus, the eldest, was an egotistical arse, a bully and a ruffian who spoke with all the gentility of a drunk Scottish football fan after a particularly harsh defeat; Patrick, the second son, was a lanky streak of piss with a smirk like a Halloween pumpkin, who seemed literally incapable of telling the truth or giving a straight answer, even to a question as simple as what his damn name was; Owen was the third son, simple and brutish, a natural born rugby player who exuded less intelligence and wisdom than the damn ball he threw around, mostly through other peoples windows; and finally there was Arthur, the youngest of the Kirkland boys and the only one younger than Francis, a scruffy urchin who turned the air blue with every sentence uttered and seemed to be drawn like a magnet to anything what would get him into trouble.

However, Francis bit his tongue – he wanted his mother to be happy. She had been married so many times, and completely devastated each and every time it fell apart – he didn't want to be the reason her marriage to this idiot didn't work. Yeah, he was a mamas boy, what of it? She was a beautiful woman who deserved happiness – the fact that he was near identical to her was neither here nor there. At least he didn't look like his father, the fuck. So he didn't grumble when they moved out of their lovely, elegant, roomy flat into the Kirklands stuffy, claustrophobic house, or complain when he had to share a room with the ten-year old Arthur (he had to leave the window open for two days to get the musty smell out, but he didn't mention that either), or bitch and moan that he had to share a bathroom with four boys (disgusting, dirty, never-clean-up-after-themselves boys), despite the fact it had become his new version of hell.

His friends heard all about it, of course, but the fact that they were all bastards meant that they relished his misery. The only one who didn't laugh manically at him when he complained was Ludwig, and that was most likely because he was 4. Francis hugged the ever-patient and eternally-confused Luddy to himself as Gilbert and Lizzie argued over Team Fortress and Antonio napped on Gilberts bed.

"I wish I had a brother like you, Luddy." He admitted "You're much a good boy – you're quiet and you don't smell at all."

"Faancis I gotta pee." The toddler complained.

"Get your own little brother!" Gilbert shrieked, kicking him as best he could without taking his eyes off the screen where Lizzie was kicking his arse.

"I have one remember?" Francis spat "He's scruffy and dirty and can't speak to me without swearing."

"That's your problem, man."

"I gotta peeee!"

"He's ten right?" Lizzie asked.

"Yeah." Francis confirmed "So?"

"So, they're pretty much a product of their environment at that age." She pointed out as she owned Gilbert for the third time that afternoon "If you want him to be nicer, try being a better brother to him first."

"A product of their environment?" Francis repeated thoughtfully.

"Yeah," Lizzie elaborated "Luddy's clean and nice because the house is clean and no one here is a jerk to him. If Arthur swears a lot it's because he's heard his brothers do it."

"Yes that's true." Francis confirmed immediately.

"Gilly, I gotta goooo!"

"He'll pee on your shirt." Was all Gilbert had to say to get Francis to release the boy, who immediately ran out of the room.

A few minutes later he called for his brother to come and help him from the bathroom – he was still little, afterall. Lizzie let Gilbert pause the game to tend to his brother. Francis sighed.

"I'm jealous." He admitted "You have a pretty good relationship with your brother too."

"I'm told siblings from single-parent families are closer." She confessed "Although Heracles and I might be close because we used to get into trouble together back in primary school."

"The Kirklands are well adept at getting into trouble together." Francis knew, remembering the drunk and belligerent Angus and Patrick had been bought home by the police at 3 o'clock that very morning "But Arthur is six years younger than Owen, so they never even went to the same school."

"If what you're constantly bitching about is true, those boys are pretty sucky brothers." Lizzie said, smirking slightly when he pulled a face "Try being nicer to Arthur, like I said. He might come around."

"Hmm, maybe."

"Couldn't hurt." A sleepy Antonio agreed from the bed "Being nice doesn't cost anything. Unlike our famous white chocolate churros, five ninety-nine for twelve." He started to rant softly as he drifted back to sleep "Todays special is seafood paella, please enjoy your meal."

"His parents really need to give him some time off the restaurant." Lizzie muttered as Gilbert came back.

* * *

Ten year old Arthur washed his feet in the creek – his shoes were full of holes, so his feet were always sore and dirty. No one really cared before, but since his dad had gotten married, he had gotten _another_ brother to bully and belittle him, only this one obsessed with being clean, so now he couldn't so anything right. As a result, he didn't want to go home. He liked the idea of having a mother, and tried to talk to her a few times, but every time he did he was soundly told off by his father or at least one of his brothers. He didn't understand why – she seemed really nice, why wouldn't they let him talk to her?

Even his last bastion of solitude, his very own bedroom, which had previously been the only place in the whole world he could escape to, had been taken over by the lilly-smelling girly boy, who had thrown out most of his things, moved everything else so he couldn't find it, and turned the whole place into what was practically a girls room. He always had the window open, so it was always cold in there. He couldn't loiter anywhere else in the house without getting picked on by his brothers. So he didn't want to go home. Even when it got dark and he got hungry, he didn't want to go home. Being cold and hungry was better.

A shadow caught Arthurs attention, causing him to look up. Another fucking teenager. What did he want? Was he going to beat him up too? And who wears a scarf in this weather?

"What do you want?" Arthur spat at him.

The boy continued to stare at him a moment, big violet eyes trained on his feet.

"Your feet look sore." He said softy.

His voice was very high – maybe he wasn't a teenager. He didn't speak like one. Maybe he was just very tall.

"My shoes are full of holes." He pointed out.

The boy just stared at him a moment more, and it was kind of irritating. Finally, without a word, he sat down on the riverbank next to Arthur.

"Mine are too." He admitted, pulling off his shoes to demonstrate "My big sister sews my socks together so my feet don't hurt."

What are you, simple or something?

"That's nice." Arthur mumbled.

The boy smiled at him.

"Maybe if you ask your mother nicely, she'll sew them for you." He suggested.

"My mother died." Arthur admitted, more than a little bitter "And I doubt Jeanne has ever touched a sock, let alone a needle."

The boy stopped smiling, looking sad, but never taking his eyes off Arthur.

"My mother died too." He confessed "That's why my big sister takes care of everything."

Arthur didn't answer. Maybe if he stopped talking, this kid would go away, so he went back to massaging his feet in the cool water of the creek. The two sat in silence for a while as the sunset turned the sky a rich orange, the other boy staring at the sky. The air was starting to cool – it would be pretty cold within an hour. Arthur didn't really like being cold. After what seemed like forever, the boy spoke again.

"My name is Ivan." He introduced, sounding unsure.

"I'm Arthur." Was his response.

"I like that name." Ivan said right away "It reminds me of old stories my mother used to tell."

"Is… that so?"

Maybe he wasn't so bad – he wasn't trying to beat him up or calling him names or trying to give him a wedgy. It was getting pretty late though.

"Sun is setting." Arthur pointed out "When's your curfew?"

Ivan looked sad, still staring at the sky. He made no attempt to move.

"I don't want to go home." He said finally.

Huh… Arthur had never met anyone who shared his sentiments before. Everyone at school went home right away or when their parents picked them up after their clubs. Did he have people who picked on him as well? Despite this, he thought the boy should go home – there were scary people about at this time of night, and Ivan didn't look like the kind of boy who could handle himself in a fight. Truth be told, Arthur wasn't in any position to be telling the boy what to do.

"Me neither." He admitted, finally pulling his socks back on.

Ivan finally looked at him, a look of gentle surprise and hope on his face. He looked awkward a moment, looking away and back to him, opening and closing his mouth a little.

"Y… your black eye…" he mumbled.

"My brothers are arseholes." Arthur spat.

"You brothers hit you?" Ivan clarified "Why?"

"Because they could."

Ivan didn't ask any more questions, but nodded understandingly, wringing his hands in his lap. After he had he shoes tied again, Arthur stood, catching Ivans attention.

"The police walk along the riverbank after the sun sets trying to catch teenagers drinking." He informed Ivan "If you stay here they'll drag you home. Wanna come with me? If you've got nothing better to do, I mean. I'm perfectly fine on my own, but you seem like the jumpy type."

Ivan nodded, standing. He almost choked himself when he trapped his scarf under his hand as he got up. Arthur couldn't help but laugh a little, causing Ivan to go very red and look at the ground, lower lip quivering slightly. Still, Ivan was almost twice his size, so a little ribbing wouldn't hurt him. Feeling a little sorry, he reached up and helped him loosen the tight fabric, which seemed to surprise Ivan.

"No harm done." Arthur pointed out, patting him on the shoulder (or as close to the shoulder as little Arthur could reach) "Come on, let's go."

The town of Hetalia wasn't an overly big place – you could relate everyone in town by less than four degrees, so everyone was in each other's business. Actually, Arthur was pretty surprised this was his first time seeing Ivan, especially with him being so tall. His family had just moved here, he explained, when his father got a new job. The two of them avoided the main road, since someone would grab them for sure and drag them home, instead loitering in the back streets and in alleys – places teenagers wouldn't go, so the police wouldn't be loitering around either. Arthur wasn't much of a talker – what was the point when no one ever listened to you? – and Ivan seemed perfectly happy in the silence himself. It was pretty late before either of them ran into trouble.

"Arthur!" an irate voice screeched in the night.

"Fuck!" Arthur hissed, ducking behind Ivan.

Francis had appeared at the end of the road, school bag still slung over his shoulder.

"It's nearly 10.30!" Francis yelled at him down the road "What are you still doing out?!"

"Whatever I want!" was his reply.

Francis scowled at him. Ivan looked between the two.

"Who is?" he asked, pointing at Francis.

"One of my brothers." Arthur spat "The prissy one."

"The one who hit you?"

"No – this one tries to drown me in the bath."

"I am taking you home, young man!" Francis announced, starting to huff his way towards them.

"Don't act so high and mighty, you dick!" Arthur yelled back at him "You're only 14 yourself, dickhead!"

"Oh, you are so grounded when I get you home!"

Francis started running towards them, causing Arthur to bolt in the other direction. Ivan was surprised a moment, rooted in spot, before snapping back to life and running after him. Running didn't seem to be Ivans strong point, and Francis soon caught up to him, ignoring him completely and heading right for Arthur. Those extra four years and 9 inches gave Francis the advantage he needed to catch his brother, pulling him to the ground as he tried to scale a chain link fence. The two scrapped, Arthur punching Francis on the chin and kicking him as heard as he could, but the larger boy kept him pinned with his superior weight.

Ivan finally caught up, causing Francis to yelp when he grabbed the back of his shirt and hauled him off the boy like he was as light as air.

"Ivan!"

The tree stopped – a young woman stood on the other side of the road, little girl in her arms. Even in the dark, Arthur could tell she had really bi… um, short hair. She looked at Ivan disapprovingly, and under the pressure of her gaze, he dropped Francis. She walked over to them, grabbing Francis' shirt herself and hauling him to his feet.

"What do you think you're doing?" she accused, eyes even harsher against him.

"Oh, this isn't what it looks like!" he insisted immediately, waving his hands in protest "This kid is my brother! He ran off, so I'm taking him home! That's all!"

The young woman didn't look entirely convinced, looking between Arthur and Francis as if comparing their faces, but since neither boy protested otherwise, she let go of his shirt.

"You should be nicer your brother." She instructed "He's smaller than you. Children look up to their elders."

"Yes. Of course. I'm sorry."

The woman sighed, clearly exhausted, and turned to Ivan.

"It's time to go home, Ivan." She said "Say goodbye to your friend – you'll see him tomorrow at school."

Ivans shoulders slumped, but he nodded anyway.

"See you tomorrow, Arthur." He mumbled, taking the little girl from the young woman.

* * *

Arthur was pretty small for his age, and skinny to boot, but he was a real scrapper, so Francis had to fight to get him home. If he picked Arthur up, he was certain to kick him, so he had to drag him along forcefully, which was completely exhausting. He groaned as he remembered he still needed to wash his hair when he got home – at least he had done his homework at Gilberts with the others (having a disciplinarian in the house was good for something afterall). The second he opened the door to the frantic Kirkland household, his mother appeared.

"Where have you been, Francis?" she berated "It is far past your curfew! It's not like you to be disobedient! I forgave you being late leaving Gilberts, but you promised to come straight home! Mummy was worried about you!"

"I'm sorry." He said immediately, still struggling to stop Arthur fleeing the house "I saw Arthur wondering around and went to bring him home with me, but he ran away."

His mother pulled a face, but it was hard to read – sad, certainly, and thoughtful, but with an undercurrent of something Francis couldn't place. With a sad smile, she brushed the silky blonde hair from her sons face.

"You're a good boy." She said "Please try not to be late again, okay?"

"I will."

She looked at Arthur like she wanted to say something, but held her tongue, wringing her handkerchief in her hands and going back into the lounge. He knew what his mother wanted to say – if Francis had come home at 11.15 when he was ten years old, his backside would still be stinging – but she and Henry had an agreement: she didn't punish or criticise his boys, and he didn't punish or criticise Francis. It pissed Francis off, actually. Sure, he didn't want Henry bitching at him all the time, but he could tell how much he mother wanted to be a good parent to the formerly motherless Arthur, and that meant laying down the law from time to time. Getting pissed off from her forlorn expression, he dragged Arthur to the entrance of the living room, where Henry sat reading the paper.

"Don't you even care?" he practically yelled at him.

"What time your curfew is is between you and your mother." was his ineffectual reply.

"I wasn't talking about me! I was talking about Arthur!"

"He's in his room, isn't he?" Henry supposed, completely blasé.

Arthur stopped struggling. Francis looked at him, surprised, and his heart immediately broke – the lad was fighting tears, his big green eyes angry and red. He hadn't even noticed. His ten-year old hadn't come home and he hadn't even noticed. Not when he came home, not when they had dinner, not when his bath and bedtime came and went…Francis wanted to punch that bastard. Without another word, he picked the boy up, carrying him to their room. He decided his friends were right – he was definitely going to be a better brother.

"I'm not crying!" Arthur sobbed, even as he clutched Francis' shirt.

"That's okay."

"I'm not!"

"I know."

* * *

At Ivans, everything was silent. Nothing made a sound, save for the man choking as he slept on the couch, empty vodka bottle littering the floor. Quiet as a mouse, Katyusha got out the first aid kit, placing it on the kitchen table and sitting on the stool in front of her brother. He wasn't bleeding so bad today, but would definitely bruise all over by morning. With a heavy heart, she cleaned him up as best she could, hoping her baby sister would stay asleep, and praying that _he_ would, so else it would all start all over again, and she couldn't take another round tonight.

"I told you to run away when he gets like that." She reminded him, barely above a whisper.

"I'm not good at running." He whispered back, flinching as she touched a bruise "And I didn't want him to hit Natalya."

"He won't hit her." Katyusha knew "She looks like our mother."

Ivan didn't say anything else. They both held their breath as the body in the next room stirred, relaxing only when they heard him start to snore again. Starting to shake from cold and fear, Ivan put his arms around his sister, holding her tightly. She put down the bloody cotton she was holding, holding him the way their mother used to hold her, stroking his mousey hair gently.

* * *

Arthur stared at the mess that was Ivans face. Ivan didn't look him in the eye, standing in front of him awkwardly. Arthur wanted to ask what had happened – had his sister done that? She seemed pretty mad yesterday. But at the same time, he also didn't – he knew that when his brothers beat him up, he didn't want to talk to anyone about it. Also, Ivan might get upset, and if he cried on the first day at a new school, he was definitely going to get beat up again. Arthur decided not to ask.

"Come on, I'll show you around." He offered, gesturing for Ivan to follow him "The school's not very big, so I doubt you'll get lost, but stick close anyway, okay?"

Ivan nodded, following him without a word.

* * *

The only thing Arthur hated more than Sports was playtime – not because he was a great brain or anything, he got along just fine when it was running or something he could do on his own, but because the teachers wouldn't let him stay inside and do his own thing. They were obsessed with him going outside and playing with the other boys – he got quite enough of 'playing with other boys' at home, thank you very much! Playing with the girls was out of the question, of course, as they cried easily and he didn't understand their games.

Ivan seemed determined to stick by his side, so the teacher told him off extra for not introducing him to people and showing him around outside. The problem with that was that the other boys knew Arthur had a temper, and liked to poke him until he snapped and punched someone so he'd get in trouble – that's why he avoided them. He didn't _want _to get into trouble. However, he wasn't the attraction today.

"Why are you wearing a scarf?" the idiot Im Yong Soo taunted, giving it a sharp pull to illustrate his point "It's May, you know, not December!"

"Please don't pull it." Ivan asked quietly.

"Why, did your mummy make it for you?" he continued to tease, yanking it a few times.

"Yes." He answered.

Yong Soo laughed derisively.

"It's too long." He pointed out "You're dragging it on the ground."

"Ah! Where?"

Alarmed, Ivan looked all about his feet. Yong Soo was quick – he was on the football team – and tripped him up, sending the towering Ivan careening to the ground, landing painfully on his rump.

"Oopsy daisy." He snickered as everyone around him laughed "It's ruined now. Guess you'll have to ask your mother to make you a new one."

Tears welled in Ivans eyes, his scarf torn and stained in his hands. Arthur didn't notice the look on his face alter, gritting his teeth as he clenched the ruined wool in his hands, eyes growing cold and furious. He was too busy punching Yong Soo in the face.

* * *

Arthur got detention for fighting. He was punished a lot, so it was nothing new to him. The school wasn't big enough to have a room dedicated to detention, so it was held in the library. Arthur flicked through a book absently, head on one arm, alone but for the librarian. He hadn't been in a rush to go home anyway, but it still annoyed him that he had been ordered to stay put rather than choosing to. Bloody Yong Soo didn't get in trouble, and he started it! It was probably because he had football practice tonight. Everyone played favourites, even teachers.

Arthur startled slightly as someone pulled up the chair beside him. Ivan smiled at him as he sat down, taking out his maths book to do his homework. Somehow he looked naked without his scarf, constantly reaching up to his neck as if to adjust it, only to find it wasn't there. After watching him do this a couple of times, Arthur spoke.

"Did you throw it away?" he asked, loud enough for only Ivan to hear him.

Ivan shook his head, concentrating on his homework.

"We might be able to fix it." Arthur went on.

That got Ivans attention – he looked at Arthur, curious and confused. Arthur sat straight, holding out the book he had been reading through – it was a knitting instruction manual, no more than kids stuff, but it did have a section about darning woollen blankets if they broke, and it was basically the same principal. Ivan read it excitedly, abandoning his maths for the rest of the night.

* * *

Francis was waiting for him when he finally got out of school. Well fuck, what did he want now? The teenager smiled at him.

"I thought you and I could go shopping." He offered.

"I hate shopping." Arthur pointed out.

"It's my treat."

"That doesn't improve it."

"What, you won't let me spoil my little brother?"

Arthur was immediately suspicious, staying out of arms reach of him. His brothers were only nice to him when they wanted something – people in general were only nice to him when they wanted something. What did Francis want? Knowing how brothers work, he probably wanted him to clean their room or be his slave or something.

"What are you after?" Arthur asked bluntly.

"What do you mean?" Francis asked innocently.

"That last time Angus was nice to me, I ended up up a chimney." He explained "The last time Patrick 'treated' me, I ended up in hospital with food poisoning. So I'll ask you again: what are you after?"

"You're awfully cynical for being so young." Francis snorted.

"You're asking me to do something I hate with a person I don't like for reasons that are unclear."

Francis stopped smiling a moment, but soon forced it back on.

"I'm just trying to be nice." He swore "You need new shoes, right? I'll buy them for you."

"Since when can you afford that?"

"My grandfather left me some money when he died. I can buy you anything you want!"

"Can you buy me better brothers?"

Francis' smile dropped again. Arthur didn't wait for his answer, instead marching off down the road by himself. The older boy was soon on his heels.

"So, do you want to come shopping?" he asked.

"No."

"Oh, come on, I know you can't afford new shoes with the little pocket money you get."

"I don't get any at all."

"Eh?"

Francis stumbled, but soon caught up, annoying Arthur immensely – he swore he was going to be taller than Francis one day, just so he could walk beside him and piss him off with how tall he was.

"Even more reason to let me treat you."

"I have plans with Ivan." Arthur pointed out

"Who? Not that tall kid from yesterday?"

"Yeah, so?" Arthur sped up – he was starting to get out of breath from marching, but Francis kept up just fine.

"I don't want you hanging around outside until midnight again, it's not good for you!" Francis ordered "Besides, there are all sorts of creepy stalkers hanging around at that time of night, what is someone tried to kidnap you?"

"Like anyone would notice." He muttered bitterly.

Francis stopped him, grabbing him by the shoulders and spinning him around to face him. He knelt down, looking him in the eye earnestly.

"I would notice." He swore.

Arthur slapped away his hands.

"Like Hell you would!" he knew "You only knew I wasn't home yesterday because you saw me! Would you have bothered to check if you had just gone home? You wouldn't even have turned on the light, just assumed I was sleeping like everyone else!"

"Why would you think that?" Francis asked.

"Because you've done it before." Arthur informed him "Three times since you and your mother moved in, I've not come home all night and no one noticed."

Francis' eyes grew wide with shock, his face paling. He looked at Arthur like he was something pitiful, which pissed him off to no end. He went to leave, but Francis grabbed him again, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Oi!" he shrieked "What are you doing? Get off!"

"I'm sorry, Arthur." Francis said "I'm sorry I didn't notice. I promise, I'll take better care of you from now on."

"And why the hell would you do that?!" Arthur spat at him, wriggling to get free.

"Because I'm your brother now, that's why!"

"Like Hell! Angus, Patrick and Owen have been my brothers for 10 years and they've never given a single fuck about me!"

Francis couldn't argue withat that, only holding Arthur tighter.

"I'll take care of you." He promised again "Enough for 4 brothers."

He released him a little, but kept his hands firmly, staring into his eyes.

"You're the little one." He pointed out "As your big brother, it's my duty to take care of you. I promise, as long as you're the little on in the house, I'll take care of you."

"You're talking crap." Arthur knew.

Francis wanted something. Why couldn't he just come out and say it like a normal person? Arthur wasn't going to be fooled – 'big brother' only meant one thing to him, and it wasn't anything good.

* * *

Ivan waited at the riverbank for hours. When Arthur turned up, his nose was bleeding and starting to swell. Ivan wanted to ask what happened, but Arthur had been kind enough not to ask about his own bruises. It was too dark for them to try and fix his scarf, so they talked nonsense for a while, neither wishing to talk about anything personal. They loitered around the riverbank until Arthurs brother showed up, apparently looking for him, immediately screeching at him about his nose.

"It wasn't like that last time I saw you!"

"Fuck off!"

Arthur ran away, his brother running after him and dragging him back.

"Fucking hate you!" he swore, struggling furiously.

"Say goodnight to Ivan!" his brother ordered as he struggled with him.

Ivan couldn't help but laugh to himself. This brother seemed to care about Arthur, even if the other ones hit him. It was nice. He was glad he was Arthurs friend.

* * *

Chapter 1 was pretty long, especially considering my chapter are usually only around 3000 words, and this one is nearly 5000. This one's going to be a long story, I think, as there's a lot of things I want to cover! Please look forward to the next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2 The Little One

The readers know what they like - this had five reviews after one chapter, whereas Three's a Crowd (companion story, if you're interested), hasn't gotten that many after 3 chapters! Oh well, I like this one better too. Enjoy!

* * *

**The Little One.**

The two boys sat in the tree, leaning conspiratorially over the objects between them while the other children played roughshod in the field below. The quality of light wasn't great under the lush summer canopy, but as both were fair skinned, sitting unprotected would soon have become more painful than strained eyes. The two had been trying to fix this scarf for a while now – Ivan couldn't be missing it in this summer heat, but he still carried it around where ever he went, either in a bag or sticking out of his pockets like a long woollen tongue. The good news was, they managed to clean it without shrinking it, now they just had to patch up the tears, but knitting was harder than the boys had previously given it credit for.

Such an activity of course attracted the attention of the other kids, who immediately laid scorn upon them, comparing them to grannies and what-not, even trying to steal the scarf and run off with it – which is another reason the two were up in this tree, as the teachers wouldn't let them stay inside to refine their craft. Ivan wasn't very good at climbing trees at first, but the more he did it the better he got. He couldn't climb as high as Arthur because of how tall he was, but he was very good at hoisting himself up onto that first branch.

"Bloody-! Dropped another stitch." Arthur moaned.

"That's okay. You're doing well." Ivan assured.

In the confines of the branches, the boys were so close Ivan practically had his head on Arthurs shoulder as he leaned over to see the progress of their work better. By now, Arthur was getting used to this – Ivan didn't have much of a concept of personal space, but he didn't use his physical advantage to bully Arthur, so he didn't mind so much.

The bell rang, calling the reluctant children back to class. With a grumble, Arthur stuffed the needles and wool back into the carrier bag and followed Ivan descending the tree. The boy wondered if just knitting him a new scarf might be easier, except that his mother had made the original for him in the first place, so it wouldn't really be the same.

After school, the two went to the library to take a look at the knitting book again – the bloody thing made it look simple, but it wasn't turning out that way: just when they thought they had it, the whole thing fell apart again. Ivan had a little money from his sister, so treated Arthur to an ice-cream as the two of them loitered about the town in the evening. Since it was still early, they strolled down the main street with their sweets with impunity. As they reached the end of the high street with all the restaurants, Ivan pointed out Wangs Chinese.

"That's where Katyusha is working now." He informed Arthur "Her boss is very strict, but also nice. He gives us free food."

"How old is she?" Arthur asked.

"17."

"Doesn't she go to school?"

Arthur was surprised – Angus and Patrick went to school until they were 18, then went on to uni. If idiots like them could stay in school, anyone could! Ivan just shook his head.

"She has to work or we have no food or clothes." He explained.

"Doesn't your dad have a job?"

"For now. He'll be fired soon. He never works for very long."

Ivan didn't talk about his father much, but when he did it was never anything positive. Arthur could understand – he couldn't actually remember the last time he spoke to his father, despite living in the same house as him. They both startled as the door to the restaurant flew open, irate Mr Wang sticking his head out into the street.

"Oi, Ivan!" he called to the boys "Why are you walking around like a homeless boy? Children should be in for their dinner this time of night!"

Before the two of them could speak in their defence, he marched over and took them both by the collar, marching them back into the building, through the restaurant and into the kitchen, plonking them down at a table that was already pretty crowded with kids, including that idiot Yong Soo.

"You sit, I'll make you dinner!" Mr Wang ordered "Do your homework while you're here, or I'll stripe your hides with a ladle!"

"He'll do it too." Yong Soo warned, rubbing his own buttocks like he had been struck.

Seeing her brother hauled off the street so unceremoniously, waitress Katyusha was of course concerned, but her boss soon shooed her back onto the shop floor, assuring her the boy was just being fed.

"Why are you so skinny, blondie?" Mr Wang criticised Arthur as he dumped a plate of food almost as big as he was on the table before him "It's a disgrace to your family!"

"Great, one more to add to the list." Arthur sassed back.

Mr Wang pulled a face, reeling off in Chinese as he went back to yelling at his staff.

The food was actually pretty good – it was no wonder the place was always packed. Despite his insistence that the boys should be at home that time of the evening, Mr Wang refused to let them leave, and his shrill voice was pretty scary without much effort. He kept asking Arthur what his home phone number was, and didn't seem to believe him when he said he didn't know (although even if he did he would have said he didn't). Only when Katyushas shift ended did he even let the boys get up from the table.

"It's pretty late." He pointed out to her as she slipped on her coat "Are you sure you don't want a ride home?"

"I'm fine." She assured "I'll have my brother with me, and Hetalia is a pretty safe place, you know."

"Even so, I wouldn't let one of my sisters out alone at night."

"I'm not alone." She reminded him "I have Ivan and Arthur."

"Two little boys don't add up to a man."

Katyusha smiled in an attempt to reassure him – it was nice that her boss was so mindful of her safety, even if his sentiments of her being safer with a man were old fashioned. She had to swing by her friends to pick up Natalya anyway, and she didn't want to go taking liberties with her bosses kindness. Taking one boy in each hand, they left the restaurant.

Arthur thought he would definitely prefer having sisters to brothers – Katyusha was always nice to Ivan and never tried to make him eat gross things or push him down the stairs. Instead he was stuck with those twats. As if to illustrate why sisters were so much better than brothers, said twats stumbled around in the road ahead of them, clearly completely off their trolleys as they shoved each other about the street. Oh god lord, it looked like entire rugby team had gone on the lash.

Arthur felt a pang of guilt as Katyushas grip on his hand tightened, and she drew back in unease as the group approached. He hoped they wouldn't notice them, just go about their drunken way – he had had a pretty good day, he didn't want to deal with them!

"Oi oi!" Angus' voice rung clear and loud in the night air.

No such fucking luck then.

"Ain't it a little late for you to be walking around on your own, sweetheart!" he proceeded to yell at Katyusha "Drop those boys and get with some real men, sweet ti-"

"Shut your fucking mouth, you wanker!" Arthur yelled back at him before he could finish his iteration "Show some fucking respect!"

The entire group stopped, and Arthur immediately regretted opening his mouth. Angus' eyes were glazed from the amount he had drunk, but realising who had called him, he grinned.

"Well, well, well, what have we here!" he declared to the group "Our little Artie done pulled!"

"I didn't think it was possible, but you've gotten even shorter." Patrick joined, pulling his trademark smirk as he stuck his hands in his pockets "You see any ghosties today, Arthur?"

Owen took it a step further, walking up and pushing his brother roughly, causing him to stumble back.

"Ain't you a little young to be out this time of night, you troublesome little shit? No wonder no one wants you around, all you ever do is cause trouble! You shoul-"

His thoughts were brought to an abrupt stop as he was slapped firmly around the face by Katyusha. The other boys roared with laughter, Owen frozen in place like he hadn't realised where the pain in his cheek had come from. Katyusha glared at him, her blue eyes aflame. Realising what had happened, and the fact that all his friends and brothers were laughing at him, Owen glowered and opened his mouth, but was immediately pulled back by Angus.

"Oh relax, love, we're just playing!" he insisted, still laughing "He's the runt of our litter, it's fine!"

"It's not fine!" Katyusha berated him "If you're his older brother, you should take better care of him, not push him around like he's your own personal punching bag! Men like you are a disgrace!"

The group stopped laughing. If anything, that was worse, as they all locked eyes on the girl. With a yank on their arms, she pulled the boys behind her, staring defiantly at a speechless Angus. After what felt like an eternity, he turned away from her.

"This is fucking gash." He announced "Let's fuck off out and find another pub."

The group wandered off, a few throwing poison looks at Katyusha, who remained defiant. As they disappeared from sight, her shoulders suddenly slumped, and she grabbed the boys by the wrists, dragging them back to the restaurant without so much as pausing for breath.

* * *

Arthur buried himself under the sheets like a protective shield against the world. Mr Wang wasn't afraid to give anyone his opinion, and he had some pretty strong opinions for Arthurs father when he dropped the boy off at home on his way through to Katyushas friends house to pick up her little sister. Arthur knew he was going to get punished, especially as Mr Wangs voice got louder and louder. He flinched horribly as the front door slammed closed, and the headlights of Mr Wangs car disappeared down the road.

"ARTHUR!" His father immediately roared up the stairs.

Jeanne yelled at him, but he couldn't hear her clearly through the floor. The two of them started to quarrel, muffled yells coming up through the building, shaking the very house. Arthur pulled his pillow up over his head, trying to drown out the sound, but it just seemed to grow louder. He flinched again as he felt a hand lay on him, but it was gentle. Daring to peak out from his sheet fortress, he saw a tired looking Francis, hair mussy and pyjamas wrinkled, smiling at him calmly as the voices downstairs got louder. Seeing how upset Arthur was, Francis pulled the sheets back, climbing into his bed with him, despite the fact that his own was probably far warmer where he had been sleeping in it.

Normally he'd hate this – he didn't trust this kind of physical contact, especially from his brothers – but as Francis put his arms around him he let himself be comforted, burying his face in his flowery smelling pyjamas.

* * *

Neither Arthur nor Ivan turned up to school for a few days after that – even their teachers started to worry, calling their homes to make sure they hadn't both come down with some kind of flu. They became particularly alarmed when a drunk and angry man answered Ivans house phone at 1pm, shouting that he had no idea where any of his children were, and hadn't seen any of them for days now. Having exhausted every course of action they were allowed by law to take, their frustrated teachers had no choice but to just wait for the boys to come back to school.

* * *

"I know it's not very big." Ivan pointed out somewhat apologetically "But we worked hard to make it clean."

"I like it." Arthur assured, sat beside him on the floor "My house is really cluttered, so it feels dirty all the time – this is nice."

The two boys sat on the floor of scarcely furnished studio flat – besides a coffee table, curtains, kitchen appliances and a large futon, the place was empty. What little of their already few belongings Katyusha had been able to pack sat in neat piles at the side of the futon, shoes by the heavily locked and bolted front door. Natalya sat colouring at the coffee table, enjoying the kind of bliss only one completely ignorant of her situation could achieve. Katyusha had left them a modest lunch as she headed out for work, which the boys picked at like sparrows as they finished putting together the tatters of the scarf.

"I actually miss going to school." Ivan admitted, knitting needles in hand "But my sister says I can't go back until we're sure our father won't look for me there."

"Did something happen to make her move out?" Arthur asked.

He was a little surprised when Katyusha turned up at his house the morning after her altercation with his brothers, asking if her siblings could stay for the day. She had a 'kitchen talk' with Jeanne – the kind children are Not Welcome at – before heading off to work. Jeanne loved little girls, spending the entire day fussing over Natalya and dressing her up while Arthur and Ivan played videogames and wandered about the streets (keeping out of sight, of course, as they were supposed to be in school). It had been quite late when she picked them up, and Arthur didn't suspect anything at all had changed until Ivan turned up again the next morning, breathlessly excited about his new house.

"I don't know." Ivan admitted "Nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe she just got tired of it… I mean, she's an adult now, right? She can do what she wants."

Ivans bruises were fading, the cut on his head healing over nicely – there'd be no trace of it by the time he went back to school. Arthur had spent the last few days avoiding his brothers – he had already had a run-in with Owen, which would have ended in a broken arm if they hadn't been in the high street.

"It's nice and quiet, isn't it?" Ivan said happily "Although I wish we had a tv. Maybe Mr Wang has one he doesn't want anymore."

"Why Mr Wang?" Arthur asked.

"Oh, this is his building." Ivan explained "He's the landlord. Katyusha had to ask his permission to live here or something. He's given us some clothes for Natalya that his sisters have grown out of. He's actually pretty generous, I think."

"Iwan, I wan go park." Natalya whined, clearly getting frustrated at being cooped up inside.

"You think it's okay?" Ivan supposed, putting down the needles on the table.

"I ought to think so." Arthur thought "The park down the road had lots of trees in – if we see your dad coming, we can always climb one. If Angus is anything to go by, drunk people can't climb trees."

It seemed Ivan was keen to go out as well, as he immediately pulled on his shoes and coat, leaving Arthur to help Natalya with hers.

* * *

Francis was fuming. He liked Henry less and less as time went by, and he could finally put his fingers on why – he was a terrible father. It took him a while to figure it out, since he didn't spend much time around him, but after the Chinese man had bought Arthur home at 2 in the morning, screaming and hollering at Henry, it had finally clicked. It was the older three the Chinese man had been so angry about – something to do with a girl, it seemed – but Henrys first reaction was to yell at Arthur. No wonder his mother had yelled at him: _he_ wanted to yell at him. No wonder still that those three had turned out the way they did.

He knew that Arthur was avoiding him, hiding at Ivans house. His mother had told him to be extra nice to Ivan and his sisters, but didn't explain why. Not that he needed an excuse to be nice to girls, but he would like to know what was going on, since it seemed Ivan was going to be Arthurs friend for a while. Henry also seemed to be in a foul mood, stalking about the house snapping at everyone for the slightest infringement – perhaps he had finally realised how much he sucked after being called out over his boys behaviour at 2am on his own doorstep.

When school ended and Arthur still wasn't home, Francis went out to look for him – it was ridiculous that in the age of the internet, tracking bugs and global positioning software, he still had to tread the pavements looking for his brother. He didn't know where Ivan lived, but the town wasn't that big – you could go from one side of another in about an hour – so the places he could be were limited. Growing more concerned as the sun set, Francis took the drastic step of asking some patrolling police officers if they had seen him, but to no avail. At around 7.30, his mother called to ask him where he was – his own curfew was fast approaching – but she seemed satisfied enough with his explanation. When is phone rang again it was Elizavetta, informing him that she had his brother pinned in the field behind her house.

He took off running. Her house wasn't far, and he ducked through her garden to get to the field behind, her father only glancing over his paper as he streaked past. The sight that he beheld there was actually pretty funny – when Lizzie said she had him pinned she wasn't exaggerating, but was actually sat on the slight boys back. Arthur himself seemed to have stopped trying to get away, but sat with his head in his hands, looking pissed off and frustrated. Had Lizzie been a boy Francis would have knocked him silly for roughhousing Arthur, but girls were pretty light – not light enough that scrawny Arthur could have moved tomboy Lizzie, though.

"I didn't know you had spies." Arthur spat as Francis got closer "Are they agency or cash-in-hand?"

"Like you're old enough to know what either of those things means." Lizzie pointed out.

"Please get off him." Francis asked her, growing concerned about how much pressure his spine could take.

With a hand from Francis, she got off the boy, patting herself down from their earlier scuffle.

"I'm glad Heracles is lazy." She admitted "I wouldn't want to do that every day. Your problem now, pretty-boy!"

With a wave of her hand, she went back to her house, leaving the boys alone. Francis went to help Arthur up, but he smacked away his hand, dusting himself off as he got to his feet.

"Does it ever bother you that she's manlier than you are?" he asked, note of condescension in his voice.

"No, because I'll always be prettier." He countered "Come on, it's past curfew, let's go."

"You can go."

Francis groaned – he didn't want to fight Arthur all the way home.

"It's late and you smell." He pointed out "Let's go home and I'll run you a bath, okay?"

"You know insulting someone isn't the way to get them to do what you want." Arthur pointed out.

"I shouldn't have to bribe a ten year old to get them to go home."

"And yet, here we are."

They reached a stalemate. If Arthur really didn't want to go home, he was going to kick and fight all the way, and Francis could tire of it long before he would. He could understand the boys reluctance, he really could, but avoiding his problems wasn't going to resolve them, and being out alone, unfed, at night when he should be sleeping was sure to make him sick, and his constitution wasn't exactly strong already.

As Francis wandered how to win the argument, the phone in his pocket rang again. Arthur startled as he pulled it out of his pocket.

"Where did you get a mobile?!" he cried incredulously, with the tone of indignant envy that only younger siblings were capable of.

"Hm? I bought it." Francis pointed out obviously "I told you I had some money put away."

He answered the phone, watching Arthur jealous face – his expressions were always so extreme, he was fun to watch. His mother wanted him home immediate, even if he hadn't found Arthur. She seemed happy that he had been found, however, encouraging her son to absolutely bring him home. Arthur couldn't hide his sulking pout as Francis hung up. He couldn't help but smile – he had an angle.

"It's a pretty colour, isn't it?" he pointed out, holding the phone aloft "I've always liked baby blue, and this little fleur de leis phone charm is really precious, isn't it?"

"I've never been a fan of 'fleur's or charms myself, but you go girl."

"Hm, that's a shame." He supposed, sticking his hand in his other pocket "I don't know what I'm going to do with this then."

He held up the item he pulled from his pocket – a burgundy phone, identical to his, with a little bunny charm dangling from it.

"I saw this adorable bunny and immediately thought of you." He said "But then I remembered you don't have a phone, so big brother bought you one."

"That's…" Arthur was clearly struggling with his emotions – he really wanted it, Francis could tell, he just didn't want to admit it "That's great, good for you."

"Hm, if you don't want it I can always use it to call myself." Francis joked, holding one up to each ear "Hello, Francis? Why hello Francis, how are you? I haven't heard from you in a while! Oh Francis, I'm so disappointed, I bought a lovely present for Arthur, but he doesn't want it! What do I do? Well, Francis, you could always drop it in that river over there. You know, Francis, that's not a bad idea."

"You're an idiot!" Arthur yelled at him, face ablaze.

Francis laughed, happy to have gotten a positive reaction out of him for once. He held out the burgundy phone, bunny charm dangling through his fingers. Arthur looked him right in the eye, scouring his face for any sign of malice. Francis waited patiently, just smiling. As Arthur reached out for it uncertainly, Francis lifted it just above his reach.

"Come home with me," he said "And you can have it."

Arthur pouted again. Francis could see his thoughts ticking through his eyes. With a miserable sigh, he softened.

"Fine." He spat "I'll come home."

Francis gave him the phone. Before he could run off, he grabbed his hand a held it tightly, leading him back towards Lizzie place.

"Don't walk through peoples gardens!" Arthur scolded as they got to the gate.

"Don't worry, this is Lizzies place." Francis explained "It's fine."

"Hey!" Lizzies father called, sticking his head out the window as they walked around the house "Don't walk through peoples gardens, Francis!"

"Told you."

* * *

Everyone was in the living room when they got back – Francis had to grip Arthurs hand like a vice to stop him from bolting. His brothers grimaced at him, but didn't move from the couch.

"Sit down, you two." Henry ordered from his armchair.

"Sit, sit!" Francis' mother cheered when they didn't immediately move "Mummy had something exciting to tell you!"

Francis dragged Arthur over to the loveseat, pulling him down into his lap and wrapping his arms around him to stop him escaping. His mother was practically hopping in place as the boys looked at her expectantly.

"So?" Angus broke the silence, clearly annoyed "Is there a reason you called us all here in the middle of the night?"

"Aye, waiting for those two was a pain the arse." Patrick agreed "We've got lives, you know."

"I have something exciting to tell you!" she repeated "Henry, boys… we're going to have a new addition to the family!"

A collective murmur of surprise lolled about the room. Henry immediately jumped to his feet.

"Darling, that's wonderful!" he enthused, throwing his arms around her "I couldn't be happier!"

"Aye, congratulations." Angus agreed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Another brother?" Owen muttered, silenced by a rough elbowing from Patrick.

"Francis, aren't you happy?" his mother asked directly "You're going to have a little brother or sister! Oh, I really hope it's a girl!"

"Yes, me too!" Francis agreed, trying to sound as happy as his mother wanted him to be "I really want a little sister!"

But Francis wasn't happy – in his lap, Arthur had gone rigid, and with a barely audible squeak, started to shake. Francis hugged him tighter, trying to assure him, but at the same time it was clear his mother wanted his attention too. Arthur made the decision for him when he broke out of his arms and ran from the room. Francis went to go after him, but his mother stopped him, enthusing over her happy news.

* * *

Oh dear, Arthur's not the little one anymore, and we all know what's (or who's) coming! Please look forward to the next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3 My Choice

**My Choice.**

Ivan was worried – Arthur wasn't his normal loud self. In fact, he had hardly spoken at all for days now. Arthur was never overly talkative, but there was a difference between being quiet because you were upset and being quiet just because you were quiet. Ivan stayed by his side as always, sitting with him in lessons and eating with him at lunchtime, but getting him to speak more than a few mumbled words was difficult. The other kids seemed to have noticed too, and all but the most die-hard idiots seemed to be avoiding him, or at least not bating him like they usually do.

When school ended on the fourth day of his silence, Ivan grabbed his hand to stop him wandering off (he didn't seem energetic enough to run away, but if he saw his brothers coming he just might) and pulled him along to the nursery to fetch Natalya. Sister safely secured, he took them both to the park.

"Iwan, I wan hole yor han too." His sister begged, staring with great envy at Arthur.

"Natalya, you can't hold my hand if I'm carrying you." He pointed out "If you want to hold my hand, I have to put you down."

"Noooo!" she whined, grabbing hold of his jumper and burying her face in his shoulder.

God, kids were stupid. Ivan was happy that at least she got a little less stupid every day. Once at the park, she immediately ran off to the sandpit, where she joined some other toddlers turning the small piles of sand into what Ivan could only describe as a bigger pile of sand. Since the benches were taken up by grandparents and harassed housewives, he and Arthur sat on the swings facing the sandpit. Instead of swinging, Arthur just sat there, staring at his shoes. Ivan didn't like seeing his friend so upset – even when his brother beat him, he was lively, so seeing him so down was troublesome.

"You're going to tell me what's wrong today." He said, more of an order than a question.

"Hm?"

Arthur looked up at him, but his eyes were hazy, like he hadn't been sleeping well.

"You're going to tell me what's wrong." He repeated "You've had three days to be sad. Now it's the fourth day, we're going to find a way to be happy again."

Arthur smiled weakly, laughing through his nose.

"That simple, huh?"

"Yup."

Arthur sighed – he had been doing that a lot – swinging slightly, eyes on his shoes. Ivan waited patiently for him to collect his thoughts.

"Jeanne's pregnant." He revealed "I'm going to be a big brother."

"And that's bad?" Ivan asked – despite thinking kids were dumb, he didn't dislike being a big brother.

"I dunno." He admitted "Yes. No. Both. I mean…"

Again, he struggled to find the words. They were only ten, finding the right way to express themselves was something they were still figuring out.

"I don't know how to be a good big brother." He went on "I'm afraid I'm going to be like Angus and Patrick, only worse because I'll take all my frustrations out on him… or her. I don't know how to treat babies – I might end up really hurting him… or her."

"I don't think you will." Ivan promised.

"You don't know that. My brothers have never been anything but awful to me – what if they're the same when Jeannes baby is born? What if he has to grow up all alone, knowing that no one wants him around? What if he's small and weak and his mother dies? Then he'll be just like me!"

Chaotic tears broke through Arthurs emerald eyes. He choked them back with sobs and splutters, wiping them away when it didn't work. As Arthur started taking deep breaths, Ivan took his hand again.

"You know what I think?" he said "I think you're already a good big brother."

"What?" he sobbed as he wiped the last tears away "How can I be? That's dumb."

"No it's not." He insisted "You're already worried about protecting him. You're worried about him being alone. You're worrying about what will happen to him." He smiled at him "You'll be a great big brother."

Arthur stopped crying, his breathing going back to normal. His eyes were full of hope, but he couldn't bring himself to speak, just squeezing Ivans hand tighter.

"But what if you're wrong?" he said finally "What if it turns out I'm just like my older brothers?"

"Then I'll stop you." Ivan promised "I'll always be bigger than you. I'll keep you busy with other things so you don't see your brother. Or better yet, you can come and live with us. Katyusha says as long as you have friends, you can leave any bad situation."

"That only works for adults." Arthur knew.

"Then I'll grow up fast." He promised again "For both you and my sisters. I'll be a great man and take care of everyone."

"That's asking too much." Arthur pointed out "You can't take care of everyone."

"Sure I can." Ivan disagreed "Mr Wang takes care of everyone he knows, and he knows way more people than I do. There are only three people in the world I care about, so taking care of them will be easy!" seeing Arthurs concerned expression, Ivan squeezed his hand "You'll see."

"Iwan, te cat scashed me." Natalya whined right in front of them, snapping the boys back to reality.

"Aw, sweetie." Ivan cooed when he saw the scratch on her hand, getting up from his swing and kneeling down before her "Want me to kiss it better?"

Natalya nodded, fighting back tears like a champ. With a smile, Ivan kissed her hand, rubbed it with his palm, then kissed her on the forehead.

"All better." He promised "Are you hungry? We need to go home soon so say goodbye to your friends, okay?"

Natalya pouted, but nodded anyway, running back to the sandpit (taking a detour on the way to scare the living shit out the cat that scratched her). Getting back to his feet, he heard Arthur laugh through his nose again.

"I hope Jeannes baby is a girl." He admitted "I might be a good brother to a little sister."

Arthur was talking nonsense – Ivan knew he'd be a good big brother. No one bar his sisters had ever been as nice to Ivan as Arthur was, so he knew that any younger sibling would love him as much as he did. His older brothers would love him too if they weren't such arseholes. Despite what Ivan felt was a good talk, Arthur looked sad again. What else could he say? He had to get Arthurs mind off his impending big brotherhood.

Ivan stood in front of him, tilted his head up, and kissed him on the mouth. Neither boy was really old enough to know what came next, so the kiss ended as abruptly as it started. Arthurs eyes were wide with shock, his body rooted to the swing.

"Cheer up." Ivan ordered, only a nose-length away "Your grumpy face makes me sad."

Natalya ran back, pulling on her brothers hand to indicate she wanted to be picked up again. I van obliged, turning back to Arthur.

"Come back with us." He urged "Mr Wang will make you food as well."

Still clearly shocked, Arthur did what he was told, getting up from the swing and following after him.

* * *

It was close to closing time – the restaurant was all by empty, the last few stragglers paying their bills and sauntering off. Katyushas feet were aching, her back sore – people may look down on waitresses, but it was bloody hard work. She piled dirty plates onto the trolley with a weary sigh – this time of night, Mr Wang didn't mind if she didn't smile for the customers. Whenever she thought she was too tired to go on, she remembered her brother and sister safe and waiting for her at home, and somehow she found the energy to go on.

She knew going it alone wasn't going to be easy from the start, but she couldn't put it off any longer. Having to patch up her baby brother each time her father beat him senseless was the single worst part of her life, more than the poverty or the hard work or the loss of her own youth to provide for her siblings. She was frustrated and infuriated at her own helplessness – their father was a large man, there was nothing she could have done to stop him short of taking the blows herself, which wouldn't have helped the situation. Since her mothers death she had counted down the days until she turned 18 and could legally be declared Ivan and Natalyas guardian and leave that man in the festering pit of misery he created.

But life was cruel, and it wasn't going to wait until she was 18. The drunk didn't watch what he said when he had been on the vodka. Some of the things he said about Natalya… pretty little Natalya, who looked so much like her mother… In the dead of the night, Katyusha had woken the baby to ask her questions, not able to shake what he had said from her mind. It wasn't too late, but she couldn't stay here any longer, not know she knew. With no one else to turn to, she asked her boss for help, going so far as to knock on his door at four in the morning.

Mr Wangs kindness wasn't skin deep – after a calming cup of tea and a tearful conversation, he gave her the keys to a flat he owned, which he had been using for storage and charged her next to nothing in rent. He gave her clothes for Natalya, upped her hours to full time at work and swore to be there to help her if trouble came, no matter what time it was. Best of all, Mr Wang, one of the towns most influential businessmen, created a wall of silence around her and her siblings, through which her father and the social services couldn't interfere. Now she just had to wait - 3 more months and she'd be 18. No matter how long she worked for Mr Wang, she knew she'd never be able to repay him for his kindness.

She groaned as the bell on the door rang – there were always some people who tried their luck.

"I'm sorry, we're closed." She pointed out as politely as she could.

She dropped her polite tone when she saw who it was – Arthurs thug brother, the tall one with the ponytail. She looked just as annoyed to see her, sticking his hands in his jacket pocket.

"I'm not here for a takeaway." He said "I'm looking for Arthur. Francis says he's here sometimes with your brother."

"You're actually worried about him? Miracles do happen."

He grimaced at her, baring his teeth, but didn't move from his spot.

"Francis isn't allowed out, that's all." He explained "His mother's 6 months pregnant, which turns out is the 'crazy' stage. She's screaming at the top of her lungs about Arthur, so I got sent out. I'm gonna clip the little shit around the ear when I see him."

"Then why should I tell you where he is?" she pointed out "Why would I hand him over to you?"

"Yea yeah, I'm a 'disgrace.'" He remembered, scowling "Glad I never had a sister – you guys are way too sensitive. Brothers roughhouse all the time, it's normal."

Katyusha slammed the plates she had been holding onto the cart, startling everyone in the restaurant. Despite being a good foot shorter, she squared up to Angus.

"It's not normal!" she corrected "I have a brother – he and Arthur roughhouse and fight all the time, of course they do, they're boys, but the worst damage they do is to their school shirts! They don't walk away with broken noses and split lips with blood covering their fronts like Arthur did the last time you 'roughhoused' with him! That's the difference between roughhousing and abuse!"

"Hey, that's a serious accusation to be throwing around!" Angus yelled back, taking his hands out of his pockets defensively.

"You're a grown man!" Katyusha declared "You think because you're his brother and not his father that it doesn't count as abuse? Tell me, if it was anyone but you and your brother, would you say it wasn't abuse?"

"Hey hey, what's going on?!" Mr Wang demanded, bursting in from the kitchen "Who's causing trouble in my establishment?!"

"Don't act like you're so high and mighty, you don't know anything!" Angus ignored him entirely "You're just some stranger, you don't know anything about our family!"

"You have some justification for beating your little brother so badly that he never wants to go home? That's laughable!"

"We're trying to make him strong!" Angus insisted.

"He's ten years old! He doesn't need to be strong! He needs to be _safe_!"

"ENOUGH!" Mr Wang roared, silencing them both and bringing the entire restaurant to a grim stillness.

He was having none of this shit, and turned on Angus like a man twice his size.

"Your brother is not here, and you are not welcome in my restaurant!" he declared "I have zero tolerance for people who harass my staff! Get out now, or I'll call Police Chief Beilschmidt and have you removed! I have his home number!"

Angus squared up to him, but he didn't move. He looked back at Katyusha, who likewise glared right back at him. She could see in his face – he was starting to realise he was the wrong who was wrong. With a defiant shake of his ginger head, he regained his previous stance.

"You wouldn't understand." He declared, keeping his tone low "Arthur has to be strong. He'll never know the love of a mother and father like the rest of us did. The world's gonna eat him up and spit him out."

"He had a father." Katyusha remembered.

"Aye, but he blames Arthur for our mothers death."

"She died in childbirth?"

"No." Angus admitted "She had cancer – the doctors only found it when she was 6 months pregnant with Arthur. They don't usually allow abortion that late, but the cancer was already so far along that she'd die for certain if they didn't start chemo immediately." He looked at the ground, green eyes clouded with remembrance "She chose to have Arthur, even though it meant her death. She only lived long enough to name him. Our father always blamed Arthur, even though he told our mother he wouldn't… That's why Arthur needs to be strong… when he learns the truth-"

"That he's unwanted?" Katyusha interrupted, sick of his self-justifications "I have news for you, Angus: he already does. You think he'd be surprised to learn his father doesn't love him? The man whose never held him or comforted him, the man who doesn't even notice if he doesn't come home? You're his big brother, you should have loved him enough for both his mother and father, no matter how much your father disliked you for it."

Angus was left speechless. With another bark from Mr Wang, he reluctantly left, none the wiser as to his brothers whereabouts. The second the door closed, Katyusha went into the kitchen. Sat at the kitchen table, Ivan had his arms around Arthur, covering his ears like it would stop the horrible words from hurting him. Mr Wangs little brother rubbed Arthurs back, but the boy wasn't crying. His face was surprisingly blank – Ivan seemed more upset than he did.

"I'll make you dessert." Mr Wang offered softly "Get your books together and I'll drive you home."

"Arthur can come to ours tonight." Katyusha offered "I'll call Jeanne and let her know."

Mr Wang just nodded, going to put together something sweet fot the kids.

* * *

Francis turned up in the middle of school. Arthurs teachers were used to him coming to pick Arthur up after school, even when it was perfectly transparent that he didn't want him to, but he never turned up in the middle of the day before. The 15 year old, in the bloom of adulthood, was charming enough to get his brother out of class with a single declaration:

"Mama's at the hospital! She's having the baby!"

They had to get the bus to the hospital – Francis was more excited than he could express in words, and it seemed Arthur was the same, fidgeting and jumping up and looking all around at every stop. God, it had been a long nine months. With a new baby on the way, Angus and Patrick had moved out, the house had been cleaned, de-cluttered and painted, and a not-so-small fortune spent on the expected arrival.

Mindful of what he had told Arthur before, Francis had been extra attentive to his little brother during his mothers pregnancy, even to the point that it infuriated the child. Despite their pre-nuptial agreement, Jeanne was far more critical of Henrys parenting of Arthur than she had been previously, blaming it on her pregnancy hormones whenever he called her on it. Arthur was still rarely home, hanging around outside or at Ivans house, so didn't get to appreciate her efforts on his behalf.

It felt like forever to get to the hospital. Francis had gone to scans with his mother, who he knew where the maternity ward was, immediately leading Arthur there, who was chomping at the bit the whole way (Francis loved how excited he was, it was adorable!). He didn't even have to ask which room his mother was in – despite his recent growth spurt, he still looked like her almost exactly, so the nurses only had to look at his face to know what he wanted. When the two of them got to her room, they were surprised to see that they were the only men there.

"Your grandma is in the bathroom." His mother assured, brushing her golden hair into a sensible ponytail "Henry couldn't get out of his meeting. It means a lot to mummy that you boys got here so quickly, though!"

"How are you, mama?" Francis asked, sitting down on the bed beside her "Are you tired? You look pale."

His mother smiled, which only betrayed how tired she really was, and wrapped her arms around Francis.

"Mama is tried." She admitted "I forgot how hard it was to have babies." She nuzzled his neck a little, burying her tired head in his long hair "I'm glad you're here, sweetie."

She let go of him with one arm. Curious, he looked around, seeing her hold out her hand to Arthur, who stood awkwardly at the other side of the bed. She laughed a little at his shyness.

"Come here, sweetie." She urged "Mummy needs a hug."

Arthur looked unsure – even after a year, he wasn't used to having a mother – but after a moment, he climbed onto the bed, letting Jeanne pull him into a hug. Francis joined in, they two laughing when Arthur got uncomfortable. They all looked over as the door gently opened.

"Hello there." A nurse greeted "How are you feeling, Mrs Kirkland?"

"My boys came to see me, so I'm happy."

She gestured to Francis and Arthur. The nurse smiled knowingly.

"Are they ready to meet their little brothers?" she asked.

"Brothers?" Arthur exclaimed "As in, more than one?!"

His mother laughed.

"We've been telling porkies." She admitted "It's twins!"

"But… why didn't you tell me?!" he demanded.

"Mama wanted to surprise you and your brothers." Francis admitted "I was sworn to secrecy."

"But why?!"

"Because it's fun!" Jeanne laughed.

Arthur literally bit his tongue – if it had been anyone but his mother, he would have gone ballistic. The nurse wheeled in a plastic cot, picking out a tiny bundle of swaddling and handing it to Francis, who held it like the worlds most valuable and breakable vase, remembering what he had learned at his mothers pre-natal classes. A pair of big violet eyes stared back at him, tiny hands just visible under the blankets, round face frames with blonde ringlets. Francis' breath was immediately taken away – this was, without a doubt, the most adorable thing he had ever seen in his life.

"That one's Matthew." His mother knew immediately, putting her head on his shoulder as she watched them "I know because he looks exactly like you did when you were born."

"Mama, he's beautiful!" Francis breathed "I am so proud of you!"

"You ready to hold your brother, son?" the nurse asked Arthur, who visibly flinched "Or should I call you 'big brother'?"

Arthur looked at Jeanne, who smiled happily and nodded in approval. Arthur started to shake slightly as he freaked out – he clearly didn't know how to hold a baby. With a little instruction from the nurse, he soon had the other baby in his skinny arms, holding him right against him like he was scared he was going to jump away. Seeing his eyes go wide, Jeanne couldn't help but giggle a little.

"His name's Alfred." She told him "He had a hard time being born, so he's counting on you to be an extra good big brother to him, okay?"

Arthur nodded, his mind clearly blown by the tiny life in his arms. The twins were almost identical, but Alfreds eyes were darker, and his hair seemed straighter. Francis was immediately glad he had bought Arthur along as he saw the brother bond instantly, little Alfred cooing and burbling in Arthurs arms. Despite wanting to drink in the happy scene, he turned back to Matthew, who continued to stare at him quietly.

"I think he likes you." His mother laughed.

"I hope so." Francis admitted "We're going to be spending a lot of time together."

* * *

It was late when they got home. Having just given birth, Jeanne let her mother drive her car back home, sleeping most of the way. Alfreds carrier was buckled safely into the seat, as Arthur wasn't big enough to keep it in his lap like Francis was doing with Matthews. Arthur was still fussing over his little brothers, despite the fact that as new-borns, they were asleep 90% of the time – he adjusted the straps to make sure they were comfortable, gently wiped what little hair they had from their eyes so it wouldn't tickle them awake and braced Alfreds carrier when speed bumps came up, scolding Francis when he didn't do the same for Matthews.

"Arthur, relax." Francis' grandmother urged, shaking her head with a laugh "The first ride home is always the worst."

All the lights were on when they arrived, a banner over the door welcoming the new arrivals. Henry helped his wife out of the car, Patrick taking Alfreds carrier as the boys climbed out, since Arthur wasn't big or strong enough to manage both successfully. They enthused as loudly as they could without waking the twins, cooing over the babies with 'congratulations' and 'well done's flying about the hall.

"Boys, it's getting late." Jeanne declared, obviously exhausted after an afternoon of having children "Help me put the twins to bed, okay?"

Arthur immediately went to pick up Alfreds carrier, as Francis had yet to let go of Matthews. The evenings happy mood shattered expertly as his father stuck him.

"What do you think you're doing?!" he snapped at his son "Don't touch your brother!"

"Henry!" Jeanne scolded.

"I don't want you anywhere near your brothers!" Henry went on "A wild animal like you will only hurt them!"

The sound of Jeanne slapping Henry could be heard all across the town. The Kirkland household fell into silence. To everyones surprise, it was Arthur who finally broke it.

"I'm a better brother than you are a father." He announced.

"What's that?" he father asked, perhaps not having heard him, perhaps not believing what he had heard.

"You're a terrible father." Arthur said louder, spinning around to Angus, Patrick and Owen "And you're terrible brothers! I'm going to be the best brother that ever was! Alfred and Matthew are never going to feel unwanted or unloved – I'll love them both enough for all of you. I'll never let anyone pick on them! They're not even a day old, and I'm already a better brother then you are a father!"

His green eyes locked on his fathers, who visibly withdrew from him.

"Nothing I ever knew will be good enough for you. You never even thought about loving me. All you thought about was your own pain. Don't worry about trying to be a father to Alfred and Matthew – they don't need you anymore than I do."

Without another word, Arthur picked up Alfreds carrier and proceeded to take him up the stairs to his room. Francis quickly followed, shocked that neither twin had woken up.

"Are you okay?" he whispered as they got to the landing.

"I'm great." Arthur swore "Better than great. It's like Katyusha says – I'm their big brother, I need to love them and protect them enough for all the useless people in our family! I'll be the best big brother, better than Angus and Patrick and Owen put together!"

Putting Matthews carrier down gently next to his crib, Francis pulled Arthur into a hug – despite his hard words, he was shaking, and let himself he held.

"You're right." Francis assured "You will. You and I both will."

He ruffled Arthurs hair.

"You and I both." He repeated "We'll be the best big brothers ever."

* * *

Two thins are official - 1. Arthurs father's a bastard. 2. Natalyas baby talk is adorable! I also love the idea od protraying Ukraine as a strong woman, which I haven't seen often. So, the first arch of the story is complete - I hope the other two arcs go as smoothly.

All reviews welcome!


	4. Chapter 4 Looking at Tomorrow

And thus, the second arc of Unwanted begins.

* * *

**Looking at Tomorrow.**

"Git up git up git up git up git up!" Alfred demanded, smacking Arthur on the head with Tony the Alien intermittently "I'm hungry!"

"You're annoying." Ivan growled, lain on the bed next to him.

Arthur groaned. He was so fucking tired, but there was no rest with a couple of 7 year olds in the house. Alfred was demanding as always, and like always he was getting on Ivans nerves. The two of them had been a work until about two in the morning, and 4 hours of sleep was not enough for either grumpy young man. Lain on his stomach, arms under his pillow, Arthur just groaned as Alfred, sat on his back, smacked him with Tony again.

"Feed me!" he demanded, already dressed.

"Have Francis feed you." Ivan growled.

"Francis had to go to work." Matthew said quietly from the side of the bed "He said it was a 'hair emergency.'"

"Hair emergency?" Ivan groaned "What does that even mean?"

Ivan rolled over, putting his trunk of an arm around Arthurs shoulders.

"Have your mother feed you." He suggested, starting to run his fingers through Arthurs messy thatch of hair.

"She's at work too." Matthew relayed.

With a frustrated cry, Arthur pushed himself up. Alfred burst out laughing as he rolled off his back and onto the floor. Ivan looked disappointed as Arthur got up.

"What do you want?" Arthur asked the boys.

"French toast!"

"Scrambled eggs!"

"French toast _and_ scrambled eggs!"

"That's why you're fat." Ivan mumbled.

"Oh, shut it." Arthur quipped back, equally as tired and grumpy "I'll make plain toast and scrambled eggs. You want any, Ivan?"

Ivan sat up in the bed, shoulders obviously stiff, wiping the dust from his eyes.

"Not if you're cooking. I'll cook."

"Whatever, I'm too tired to care."

Arthur went to wash his face, Alfred on his heels – despite being 7 years old, he hadn't grown out of the 'don't ever leave me along ever ever' stage, and Arthur was his favourite person to shadow. He stuck right by him as he washed his face and brushed his teeth, watching him the entire time.

"You look tired." He noted in his childish innocence.

"I am tired." He admitted.

"Why are you tired?"

"Because I was working late last night."

"Why were you working late last night?"

"Because I need the money."

"Why do you need the money?"

"Because I'm going to university next year."

"Why are you going to university next year?"

"Because I don't want to end up lifes loser like dad."

Alfred stopped short. His 7 year old mind couldn't quite conjure up a 'why' for that one.

"Why do you have a bruise on your neck?" Alfred changed the subject "It looks like someone bit you."

"Because Ivan plays rough."

"If I bit Matty, Mama'd get really mad." Alfred knew, putting Tony the Alien on the side of the sink and pretending to brush his plastic teeth.

"You're right." Arthur agreed "Don't ever bite Matty, or he'll cry."

"I won't." Al promised.

He tailed Arthur down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Ivan had pulled on his work shirt and was making scrambled eggs. Matthew sat in his chair patiently, plushy bear in his arms, humming to himself as he swung his legs back and forth under the table.

"You'll ruin your suit." Arthur pointed out "Shirts that big can't be cheap."

"They aren't more expensive because they're bigger." Ivan explained.

"They should be." Arthur muttered bitterly.

Ivan laughed. As they sat at the table, Ivan dished up breakfast – one slice of toast with eggs for the boys, two for Arthur and three for him, leaving the pan to soak in the sink.

"Is grandma coming later?" Arthur asked.

It may be Saturday, but it was unusual for Jeanne to leave Arthur to take care of the boys without warning. Alfred answered, but as his mouth was full what he said was unintelligible.

"Francis said he'd be back soon." Matthew promised "But if you have to go somewhere, you can drop us off at the salon."

"No, nothing like that." Arthur reassured "Mum just usually lets me know if she has to work at the weekend."

"It was a fabric emergency!" Alfred declared triumphantly (for whatever reason).

"Is that so?"

"She is Francis' mother." Ivan muttered.

After breakfast, Arthur washed up while Ivan called his sister and the boys watched cartoons. While Arthur got dressed, Ivan pulled out their textbooks and notepads and set them up at the low table at the end of his bed. Arthur groaned audibly as he pulled on his shirt.

"We shouldn't leave the boys alone downstairs all day." He supposed "Something might happen."

"We need to seriously study today." Ivan reminded him "Exams start next week."

"I know." Arthur admitted "I know I know I know, but still…"

"Never fear!" Francis burst merrily into the room, sporting brand named coffee and a bag of snacks "Big brother has returned! Go about your studying in peace!"

"About bloody time!" Arthur scolded "What the hell is a 'hair emergency' anyway?"

"Right now, there's one going on on your head." Francis quipped in response "When was the last time I cut it?"

"How should I know?"

"Ugh, it looks like a bird is trying to make a nest in a storm." Francis went on "Come to the salon after your exams, I'll give you a trim."

He handed the coffee and snacks to Arthur, picking up Alfred as he bundled into the room.

"When is your next shift?" he went on.

"8pm."

"Today?"

"Yeah."

"Don't let Mr Wang work you too hard, he knows exams are coming up."

"We have two weeks off from Monday." Ivan assured him "Mr Wang insisted."

"Well alright then, study hard."

"Aw, but I wanna play with Arthur!" Al moaned as Francis carried him back downstairs.

"Come on, little man, big brother has a fun day planned for us!"

Arthur shut the door, plopping himself down on the floor on the other side of the table to Ivan. Today was going to be long and tedious – he was already knackered and he had to work again later. One cup of coffee might not be enough. He handed the other to Ivan, throwing down the bag of snacks and opening up his history book.

"Got any replies yet?" Ivan asked, sipping his coffee.

"I got a conditional from Hetalia University." He relayed "And one from Kings College in London. You?"

"Unconditional at Hetalia U." Ivan admitted, but it in no way felt like bragging "I'm waiting to hear from the rest."

Ivan started on geography. They didn't talk much as they studied, either through tiredness or concentration. Around noon the other three burst in, wielding a tray of cupcakes they had baked (Francis' idea of a fun morning, it seemed). Being 7, the boys had made Ivan and Arthur their own 'special' cakes (they looked like a sweet factory had exploded and landed on top of an icing sugar hill), and refused to leave until the two ate every last bite. Francis relished every second of it, sat on Arthurs bed smirking. They ran out the room screaming the moment the word 'park' was uttered. Ivan immediately washed his mouth out with tea.

"I hate sweet things." He spat.

"I'm not a fan." Arthur agreed "But the boys made them, afterall."

"Arthur, even if we end up going to Hetalia U, you have to move out!" Ivan insisted.

"What for?" he asked "Jeanne's not going to kick me out or anything."

"You want to end up like Francis? 23 and still living with his mother?"

"Francis lives here because he wants to, not because he has to." Arthur defended "He likes taking care of the boys, and besides that he's the biggest mummys boy on the planet."

Ivan didn't look pleased. Arthur was in no rush to move out – Jeannes house was clean, quiet and close to the centre of town. It may not be as big as the house he grew up in, but the atmosphere was far more pleasant. To the surprise of absolutely no one, Jeannes marriage to Henry Kirkland hadn't lasted long, and she took full custody of the twins, moving across town to be closer to her work. The real upset was that she had also won custody of 13 year old Arthur, simultaneously brandishing her ex-husband an unfit father while taking half of everything he owned. Almost overnight, Arthurs home life went from being cold and solitary to being surrounded by love and smiles – it was quite startling. Of course, it took him a while to adjust, and there was odd occasion that he was bought home by the police during his rebellious phase, and Francis never stopped running after him like he was still 10 years old, but seeing how he was with the twins, Arthur had stopped taking it personally.

While Arthur was no longer forced to share a room with lily-scented, girlie-haired and overly touchy Francis, Ivans near inseparable nature meant that he very rarely slept on his own. People often mistook them for a couple, and while Arthur could understand why, it was a little vexing when he was trying to impress a girl (especially as Ivan played up to it). Ivan had been wanting to live on his own for a while, as between Katyushas boyfriend and Natalyas budding adolescence he was starting to feel like a fish out of water at home, but he disliked being alone so intensely that he had made it his mission to wear Arthur down into moving in with him. With university coming up, going anywhere but Hetalia university would of course require moving away – despite not being his biological mother, Jeanne told him not to worry about tuition and follow his dreams. As she was a fashion designer and her son a hair dresser (sorry, couture stylist), she was definitely a woman who practised what she preached. Arthurs love of history and literature had led him folklore, but he wasn't sure what kind of career he could eke out from studying it.

Ivans choices were a little more limited, since he only had his sister to help him financially if he decided to follow his dreams (although truth be told, Arthur wasn't quite sure what they were, as whenever the subject came up he seemed awfully blasé about the whole thing). However, should he choose to study something useful like accounting or business management, Mr Wang was more than happy to be his financier – currently, all three Braginski siblings were working for him, Katyusha as the manager of a few of his restaurants, Ivan as a bouncer at the towns only high class bar, and Natalya as an ice cream seller on the weekends and holidays at a kiosk in the park. Ivan was frustratingly uncommitted to picking a course to study, causing more than one or two arguments with Katyusha – or rather, she yelled at him while he continued not to care.

They stopped studying when Jeanne called them down to dinner – by now, she fully expected that if Arthur was home, Ivan would be there as well, and made enough ratatouille for everyone. She would often joke that the twins had no idea Ivan _wasn't_ their brother until last year. After dinner she encouraged them to take a break before going to work – it would do them no good to exhaust themselves before the most important exams of their compulsory education. Arthur didn't mind: he'd been reading so long that the words were starting to fly around the page, and it just wasn't enjoyable. Ivan took it as a cue to go to sleep for a while on Arthurs bed, while Arthur released his tension playing with the twins in the garden.

He waited silently behind the tree with the water pistol – Arthur and Matthew had the fancier ones, of course, but he didn't mind. He could hear Alfred clomping around, never one for subtlety, through the bushes looking for him. With a yell of 'AH HA!' he leapt out from his hiding spot, catching Alfred dead on with a spray of water. Alfred screamed, flailing at the cold water hit him, before grabbing his supersoaker and attempting to fire back, but Arthur had hidden behind the tree again.

"Matty I found him!" Alfred yelled "Come help!"

Hearing Alfred charge towards him, he snuck around the other side of the tree, rounding on a confused Alfred.

"Gotcha!"

Alfred screamed again as Arthur grabbed him, pulling him away from the tree and tickling him mercilessly. Between gasping laughs he called for his brother to help. Matthew appeared out of nowhere – he was the hide and seek king – and blasted Arthur in the face. However, he had underestimated his big brothers reach, and Arthur soon grabbed him, pulling him into the tickle pile. The only time Matthew was loud was when he was laughing, so Arthur tickled him extra.

"Mercy!"

"Stop!"

"Never!"

Arthur did stop when Jeanne called them from the house to announce it was time for the boys to take a bath. Alfred tried to run away, but Arthur grabbed his ankle, carrying him upside down as he laughed hysterically. He looked at Matthew – since he was quiet, people often paid more attention to Alfred, so Arthur made extra sure to pay attention to him.

"You want me to carry you too?" he asked.

Matthew shook his head, paling slightly.

"I wouldn't like that." He admitted, regarding his upside down brother.

Arthur laughed, holding out his hand for Matthew to take, which he did, and going back into the house. Francis and Arthur were halfway through bathing the boys when Ivan interrupted.

"We have to leave soon." He reminded Arthur, looming in the doorway like a grump bear.

"I can handle these two." Francis promised, despite the fact that he was almost as soaked as they were "Hurry up and get dressed."

As Arthur left, Alfred tried to get out of the bath, trailing bubbles behind him, to follow, but Francis threw him back in.

* * *

"Yong Soo, table twelve needs a whiskey." Arthur reported, putting his round tray down on the fancy counter "And a bottle of champagne for table fourteen."

"Coming up!" he promised as he finished pouring a cocktail "Do they need the full treatment?"

"Not this time – it's their third bottle."

Yong Soo laughed, putting the perfectly round ice in the cold class and pouring in the whiskey before putting it on Arthurs tray.

"Champagne gives me a headache." He revealed "Beer is way better. Did you know-"

"Beer comes from Korea, I'm sure." He knew.

"Of course!" Yong Soo answered.

Arthur only smirked as Yong Soo flashed him the pearly whites that got him put on the bar in the first place. Arthur held his back straight, head up, tray balanced perfectly on his upturned palm, and headed back onto the floor.

Fridays and Saturdays were the busiest at the Chinnaty Club, but with Ivan and Berwald on the door trouble was almost non-existent. In his perfectly pressed and fitted uniform (tailored courtesy of Jeanne, who was known to be physically sick when seeing a man in an ill-fitting suit), he attracted a fair amount of attention from the patrons, despite his eternally messy hair. This wasn't always welcome, especially from the men – if Feliks pinched his arse one more time he was going to smack him with a tray, Mr Wang be damned – but a shift rarely passed without someone trying to pass him a phone number.

Although he wouldn't admit it, Ivan also got his fair share of come-ons – stood next to stony-faced Berwald, he must have seemed like a cuddly teddy bear – but he always swore that they were just being nice to him so he'd let them inside. It never did work.

He came to table twelve. He was slightly pissed off – it was only a friend of Francis', the albino one, drinking on his own like a loser, but he had to treat him like he did any other customer.

"Your whiskey, sir." He said as he placed the ice-cold glass on the coaster on the low table before him.

The moment he released the glass, Gilbert grabbed his hand – he had already had a bit to drink tonight, and Arthur knew from experience he got handsy when he'd had a few.

"Arthur!" he whined "Come sit with me and listen to my tale of woe!"

"I'm working, Gilbert." He pointed out, trying to pull his hand away without smacking Gilbert in the face "Francis is home, go cry on his shoulder.

"No way. He wouldn't understand. He's happy for them."

Groaning internally, Arthur looked back to the bar, where Yong Soo was keeping his eye on him. He made the phone signal with his hand and the Asian nodded, picking up the receiver behind the bar. Before he could look back, Gilbert pulled him roughly in his lap, wrapping his arms around him like he was a cuddly toy.

"How could that bastard Francis be happy? I thought he was on my side!" he moaned.

"Oh good grief. Is this about Lizzie?"

"Then you know?!" Gilbert exclaimed.

"That she's having a baby? Everyone knows! Now get your hands off me, you drunk!"

"Wah, Arthur, you're on my side, aren't you?"

Gilbert hugged him tighter. God, it was like he was 13 all over again! His face flushed as he realised they were drawing stares.

"There are no sides, Gilbert!" Arthur hissed, trying to break his grip "Lizzie and whats-his-face are having a baby, you should happy for them! Last time I checked the two of you were still friends!"

"I don't want to be her friend! I should be that father of that baby!"

"Maybe if you weren't so useless, you would have been!" Arthur snapped – he had had almost the exact same conversation with Drunken Gilbert when Lizzie and whats-his-face had gotten married.

"Arthur, that's mean." Gilbert whined.

Arthur recoiled – his breath absolutely stunk of alcohol. He had been here before Arthurs shift had started – how many had he had?

"Can't you comfort me a little?" he whined, giving him a squeeze.

"There will be no comforting." A voice menaced.

Thank god, it was Ivan. Although, maybe not – he was MAD. Ivan didn't get mad often – he was a cheerful sort of person – so when he did get mad, it was fucking scary. That, and he was the size and shape of a shaved bear. Arthur tried harder to break free, but Gilbert was a lot stronger than he looked. Ivan grimaced, grabbing Gilberts arm and pulling it away from Arthur forcefully, allowing him to jump up.

"The management of the Chinnaty Club does not tolerate sexual harassment towards its employees." He growled, using his grip on Gilberts arm to hoist him out of his seat "You have had enough to drink. Time to go home."

Without another word, he pulled Gilbert to the exit. Lilly came running over as Arthur straightened himself up.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He assured "That idiot's still hung up on Lizzie, that's all."

"Well, as long as you're okay. Please be more careful."

"I'm alright." He said again "I feel sorry for Ivan, having to deal with him."

* * *

Ivan threw the drunk against the wall. How dare he. How dare he touch Arthur like that. Did he think just because he was Francis' friend that he could touch Arthur however he pleased? Ivan cracked his knuckles as the drunk stumbled to his feet. He was going to beat the living shit out of him. He stopped, overflowing with irritation, as Berwald laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Calm d'wn." He ordered "Beat h'm up and y'u'll get frrd." He blushed deeply as his impediment slipped "Fired." He repeated slowly.

Ivan shook off his hand. This wasn't the first time Gilbert had been so touchy with Arthur, but it was sure going to be the last, even if he had to break his hands. He hoisted the scrawny man up by his shirt, throwing him against the wall again. As he reeled, a voice called to them in the dark.

"Gilbert!"

Gilberts younger brother – what was his name? Lu-something-or-other? – came sprinting up to them through the alley. He was a couple years younger than Ivan, and a big boy for his age. Ivan supposed that with a useless brother like Gilbert, he had to grow up quickly. The blonde looked put out as he got to them.

"Gilbert, how much of a state do you have to be in that the bar has our home phone number?!" he scorned before turning to Ivan and Berwald "I'm very, very sorry. I'll take him home right now."

"Luddy~" the drunk sung as his brother slung him over his shoulder "You're all I have now! Don't ever leave me!"

"Yea yeah, we'll discuss this when you're sober."

He boy hauled him off. With a final growl, Ivan spun around to get back to the door, but Berwald stopped him, laying his hand on his shoulder again.

"You need to c'lm down." He said very slowly.

Berwald pissed him off when they first met – he thought the blonde was being patronising, talking to him so slowly. It took him a while to realise it was because he had an impediment, which came out whenever his cousin Matthias tried to get into the club. He came to quite like his colleague after he figured it out – he was dependable and smart, and despite his large size he was pretty gentle. If Ivan had had an older brother, he would have wanted it to be someone like him. He looked Ivan in the eyes seriously.

"I know you g't jealous." He went on "B't you gettin' aggressive isn't goin' to make Arthur happy."

"I know that!" he assured, but Berwald wasn't going to be intimidated by his raised voice.

"You're a g'd boy. I know you love Arthur, b't if you start be'ting people up who g't close to h'm, he'll never acc'pt your feelings. Take y'r break and calm down bef're c'ming back."

Ivan bit his tongue. Berwald was right, but he didn't want to hear it. He nodded, and the older man released his shoulders, going back to the door. Ivan tried taking deep breaths, and when that only made him dizzy, he punched the wall. He sat on the ground in the alley – his blood was still boiling, and now his hand hurt.

Why was Arthur so oblivious? Why did he just let people touch him like that? Was he just used to it, what with having a brother like Francis, so he didn't think it was unusual? He told Ivan off when he did things like that, even though he was the only one with any right to. Ivan shuddered – maybe he was just frustrated, in more way than one: everything around him was trying to change, and he didn't want them to. Why couldn't his sister accept that he was happy living simply, working his way up like she had? Why did he have to go to university? Why was Arthur always trying to leave him? Why did he always prefer being with other people instead of him? Why couldn't he just tell Arthur how he felt?

He was bought back to reality as something wet, hard and ice-cold was pressed against his cheek. Looking around, he saw Arthur sticking his head out of the fire escape, glass of ice and water in his hand. He smiled at Ivan.

"Drink this." He ordered "You're grumpy when you're not full."

Ivan took the drink. With a wink, Arthur ducked back inside. That was it. Tonight was the night.

* * *

Ivan hated the alarm – he could never remember the number, and if he got it wrong it would wake up his sisters. Luckily, Arthur remembered what it was, and keyed it in as Ivan closed the front door as quietly as possible, fastening all the locks. It was one in the morning, both Katyusha and Natanlya would be sleeping. Luckily, Ivans bedroom was on the ground floor of the generously sized house, so the boys didn't have to creep up the stairs. He was still getting used to this house, even though they had moved in two years ago. Having his own room was kind of novel.

He flicked on the overhead light as they entered his bedroom, closing the door quietly. He sighed as he saw Katyusha had left a stack of university pamphlets and clean clothes on his bed.

"If you had just picked a course when everybody else did, she wouldn't be on your arse about it still." Arthur pointed out, pulling off his waistcoat.

"Don't you start."

Ivan threw off his shoes and locked the door – Natalya never knocked, so he learned to lock his door if he wanted to sleep in the next morning. Luckily there was no work tomorrow, but they really should study – they had their maths exam first thing Monday morning. He couldn't help but glance at Arthur as he pulled off his shirt – he was so used to him and Ivan being together that he didn't think twice disrobing in front of him. He really should – he definitely would if he knew the kind of thoughts than ran through Ivans head.

"A-Arthur?"

"Yeah?"

"Uh, there's… something I need to talk to you about."

Arthur looked around as Ivan sat on the bed.

"Sounds awfully serious." He pointed out, looking a little worried "Everything okay?"

"Oh yes, nothing bad's happened." He assured "I just wanted… to talk about the future."

"No need to get so serious about that." Arthur assured, standing right in front of him "Have you decided on a course? Or are you saying you've decided not to go to uni? If so, you're the one who has to tell Katyusha and Mr Wang."

Ivan laughed awkwardly. How like Arthur to just accept his choices – why couldn't he throw a tantrum and beg Ivan to come to the same university as him? That'd make him pretty happy. Did he want them to be split up?

"After our results," He thought aloud "There'll be nothing keeping us together."

"What do you mean? We aren't going to stop being friends just because we don't go to school together every day."

"But we won't be together every day. We won't wake up together and eat together and work together and go to sleep together."

"When you put it that way, we really do sound like a couple." Arthur said, laughing slightly "No wonder people get confused. But there's nothing to worry about, Ivan, we'll always be friends."

"That's not enough."

"Eh?"

Ivan took Arthur in his arms –he didn't try to wriggle away from him like he did Francis – pulling him into his lap.

"The world will tear us apart." He knew "Just being friends isn't enough to keep us together."

"Ivan, you know I hate this verbal meandering you do whenever you have something important to say. Just come out and say it already."

Arthur looked annoyed – he was so straightforward. Ivan swiped the pamphlets and clothes onto the floor, spinning Arthur around so he was flat on his back on the mattress. Ivan leaned over him, relishing his irritated blush – that tease, he wasn't as innocent as he let on. Ivan kissed him, relishing for the first time the feeling of his tongue breaking past his lips as he ran a large hand down his pale chest. Arthur was shaking slightly, but he didn't push Ivan away, only objecting when he started to unbutton his trousers.

"Hang on, that's a bit much!" he cried, grabbing his hand.

Ivan grabbed both Arthurs hand, pinning them above his head. He smiled at Arthur unsure expression.

"Don't worry." He assured, slipping his hand into his pants "I know how to make you feel good."

He drank in Arthurs pants and gasps as his fingers worked their magic.

"Told you."

He leaned in and kissed him again. Ivan had been frustrated for a long time – he wasn't going to be frustrated in the morning.

* * *

RusUk isn't a common pairing, which is a shame, because I'm a fan of it (can you tell?). After the horribleness of the first arc, I wanted Arthurs life to improve, but it wouldn't be a good story if it stayed that way! What did you think of little Alfred and Matthew! More of them in the next chapter, I promise!

As always, reviews more than welcome!


	5. Chapter 5 Friends on the Other Side

**Friends on the Other Side.**

That winter had been a harsh one, the cold unrelenting and all encompassing. The frigid wind held sovereignty on every street and around every corner, invading through open doors and the cracks of the windows. The nights were especially bitter, as no number of blankets or layers of clothes could protect the flesh from the penetrating chill. The snow was half way up his shins, wet and heavy against his tired, struggling legs as he battled through, whole body aching from the cold and the beating he had just taken.

He wanted to stop. He wanted to curl up into a ball and cry – he hadn't been in this much pain in… in ever. Francis was not the kind of person who got into fights, and his current agony was a good reminder as to why. He couldn't understand boys like Gilbert who did this habitually. His hands hurt, his stomach hurt, his head hurt, his back hurt, he was probably bleeding and god knows what his mother was going to say when he got home. It was horrible, and he was never, ever going to do it again.

The body on his back stirred, coughing. Arthur was getting heavy. As much pain as Francis was in, he was sure Arthur was in worse. Imagine, grown adults beating up a kid! They didn't even have the excuse of being his brothers, just some randoms on the street! Francis didn't want to believe that such things happened, not in his town, not to his brother. Arthur was still a scrawny runt, but he was catching up to Francis quickly. He was getting heavy.

Francis could see his breath on the air. What a ridiculous situation. Arthur coughed again, waking himself up with a shudder.

"Ivan?" he mumbled, barely audible over Francis' shoulders.

"Not quite." Francis said quietly, jaw aching.

"Francis?"

"You sound surprised."

"Where's Ivan?"

"I don't know, Arthur. Was he with you when the fight started?"

Arthur paused a moment. Francis figured his mind must be groggy, since it wasn't a difficult question.

"No." he said finally.

He rested against Francis' back – he must have been exhausted, as his limbs went loose in Francis' grip, his head resting on his shoulders.

"Are you okay?" the older man asked, concerned at his sudden lack of resistance.

"I feel sick." He muttered.

Francis laughed through his nose.

"Please don't throw up on me."

"No promises."

Arthur didn't ask to be put down like he normally did, so Francis tightened his grip. Arthurs hand twitched before he slinked his arm further around Francis shoulder – it made him pretty happy, even if he was only doing it so he felt like he wouldn't fall.

"You're getting heavy, you know." He teased "This time next year I won't be able to carry you anymore."

"Good." Arthur muttered, but still didn't ask to be put down.

"What happened anyway?" Francis asked "Why did those guys gang up on you like that? Were they drunk?"

"Probably." Was his blasé reply.

Francis sighed to himself when he got no more information from him. They didn't live with his brothers anymore, but he still got into fights, sometimes with complete strangers. Of course he still had his temper, but there are limits to these things! Francis never saw the beginning of these events, only the aftermath, so he simply couldn't imagine what Arthur could have said or done – even when the two of them fought, he never felt the need to do more than pinch his cheeks or slap his behind like an unruly child.

He sighed again – they were nearly home. He was going to be happy to put Arthur down, but wasn't relishing the tongue lashing from his mother when they got in the door. With a start, Francis realised Arthur was talking. He listened, but Arthur spoke so quietly that he couldn't have been talking to him. What was he saying?

"Arthur?" he asked "Did you say something?"

The boy on his back fell silent.

"No." he replied.

Francis tried to look at him, but his neck wouldn't turn enough. Maybe that knock to the head had scrambled him more than he thought. If he was still funny tomorrow, he would definitely take him to the hospital.

"Whatcha looking at?"

Francis looked around. Alfred stared at him, blue eyes shining bright. The summer sun shone down beautifully, wiping away the chilling thoughts of winters past. Francis sat on the back step, cigarette in hand, watching his little brothers as they played in the blooming garden, but he had been so lost in his own memories that he couldn't honestly say what they had been doing. Alfred smiled at him, Tony the Alien in his hands, waiting expectantly for his reply. Francis smiled at him.

"I'm just thinking of something that happened a while ago." He confessed "When you were still a baby."

"Really? You look sad. Was it something bad?"

Alfred looked honestly concerned – in terms of facial expression, he was much like Arthur, wearing his big heart on his little sleeve. Francis looked back at Matthew, who sat by himself under the tree in the garden. He could see the boys mouth opening and closing – he was talking to himself, laughing at nothing. He spoke to the teddy bear as if it could talk back. Seeing his concerned expression, Alfred sat down on the step beside him.

"Matthew's talking to himself again." He pointed out "Why does he do that?"

"He's just playing." Francis assured him, but he didn't sound entirely convinced himself.

"Arthur talks to himself too." Alfred went on with all the innocence of his 8 years of life "Even when Ivan's in the room with him. Why does he do that? Is he playing too?"

Francis didn't answer. Matthew burst out laughing, waving his hand about in the air like he was batting something away. Francis took a drag on his cigarette, stubbed it out, and fished the phone out of his pocket.

* * *

"You're fretting over nothing. Children talk to themselves all the time, it's nothing to worry about."

Francis knew that. He knew children had imaginary friends and spoke to clouds and made believe, but… the drastic difference between Alfreds down-to-earth energy and Matthews away-with-the-faeries etherealness concerned him. He remembered several times waking up in the middle of the night to find Arthur talking to himself – it was creepy as fuck. The other night when he had woken and gone to bathroom, he heard Matthew talking in the twins room and, thinking they were both up past bedtime, opened the door to tell them off. Alfred was sleeping soundly. Matthew was talking to no one.

Patrick sat on the sofa opposite him, legs crossed, sipping his tea. He was still a lanky streak of piss, but time had dulled his edges, and he no longer smirked like a grotesque stretched mask. Even his hair was no longer wild, trimmed and brushed back sensibly to fit his nice shirt and tie. If Francis had met Patrick on the street or at his work, he would have had no problem calling him 'doctor.'

"I know that Patrick." Francis assured, leaning back in his chair "But the way he's been acting reminds me more and more of Arthur, only without the anger issues. I'm concerned is all."

Patrick put his cup down on the coffee table, crossing his hands in his lap before looking back at Francis.

"Is Arthur still talking to himself?" he asked.

"Not when I'm around. Alfred says he's seen him though."

Patricks eyes clouded with thought, looking down as his mind whirled. He pressed his index finger to his lips as he mused. Francis waited for him – Patrick had spent the last 10 years studying psychology, specialising in children, so if he could say there was nothing to be concerned about, Francis knew he could relax. After a moment, Patrick got up from the sofa and went into the play room where the boys were building legos.

It was odd for Francis to see Patrick at work – he kicked off his shoes, unbuttoned his waistcoat and sat on the floor with the boys. He helped them build their castle, weaving his questions into the play, not making it obvious that he was questioning Matthew and not Alfred. It was a very different Patrick from the one Francis had immediately hated all those years ago.

"No way, there's no such thing as faeries!" Alfred announced "They're just stories for babies!"

"You believe in aliens but not faeries?" Patrick laughed as he handed him more bricks.

"Aliens exist! It's a fact!"

"What about you, Matthew?" Patrick asked "You ever seen a faerie?"

Matthew didn't answer right away. Patrick waited, handing him a few yellow and green bricks for the wall he was building. Francis grew more tense the longer Matthew stayed quiet.

"I think faeries are real." He said finally "Arthur says they live in the rose bushes at the bottom of the garden."

"Arthur likes to tell stories." Patrick knew "Does he read you a lot of stories?"

Matthew nodded, not looking at him as he continued to build his wall.

"Yeah, he tells the best stories!" Alfred announced, almost crushing all his hard work in his enthusiasm "And if I get scared, he sleeps in my bed with me. My favourite story was about these witches that turned these kids into mice and they were running around this hotel, and they wanted to eat all the children in the world! It was so scary I don't remember the end, but it was really good!"

"He was too scared to let Arthur finish." Matthew explained quietly "He started crying."

"I did not!"

"I remember that story." Patrick empathised "My mother read it to me when I was about your age. What's your favourite story, Matthew?"

Matthew 'hmm'd, placing the wall down in the gap in the castle.

"Last time I was sick, Arthur told me a story about Oberon and Titania, the faerie king and queen. I liked that story."

"Oh yeah? What did you like about it?"

"It was a gentle story." Matthew explained "It was all about the faerie court, and they were having a party. Everybody was happy and had a good time. That's all, really."

Patrick sat and played with the boys a while before getting up, cricking his back like a man twice his age.

"I either have to start wearing jeans to work or stop sitting on the floor." He complained to Francis, gesturing him into the kitchen.

As it was getting on, Francis started on dinner, cutting the vegetables with extreme prejudice as Patrick leant against the kitchen table.

"Matthew's introverted for sure." He relayed "He might come out of his shell if you enrol him in an outside activity, scouts or the like. Without Alfred, I mean. As for talking to himself, I don't see anything to worry about. He'll grow out of it."

"Are you sure? I mean, Arthur still-"

"Stop being a mother hen." Patrick scolded, spinning a biro in his fingers "You're the closest thing these boys have to a father, if you go smothering them like Jeanne does they'll rebel against you both come adolescence."

Francis was immediately awkward.

"How… is your father?" he asked, more out of politeness, as he didn't really have a single fuck left where Henry Kirkland was concerned.

"The fuck should I know?" was his answer as he put the biro in his mouth – was he trying to quit smoking?

Chewing on the end of the biro, he stuck his hands in his pockets.

"How's Arthur?" he asked before grumbling "He still doesn't talk to me much."

"He's getting on well." Francis relayed "He's staying out of trouble now he's at university. It's about time too, since Alfred is determined to copy everything he does."

Patrick laughed.

"Yeah, I remember when Arthur used to follow me and Angus around. Nearly lost my lunch when I heard him copy us swearing. How's his health? He got a girlfriend yet?"

"I told you last time he was dating Ivan." Francis reminded him.

"I was hoping that was a phase."

Francis gave Patrick a stern look, but the doctor just shrugged.

"It's none of my business." He reasoned "If he's gay or not. Out of seven brothers, one being gay's not a bad statistic, but I always thought it would be you."

"It's the hair, isn't it?"

"I see why you'd say that, but for me it was always the hips." He teased, waving his hand from side to side "You swish just a little too much for a straight man."

"The ladies love the swish." He quipped back, shaking his ass "Makes me fantastic in bed."

"Spare me the mental image, please!" Patrick grimaced with a smile "What about uni? How's that going? Is he still working? How are his finances?"

Francis couldn't help but laugh.

"You're worried about him, aren't you?" he pointed out.

"Of course I am – he's my brother. He was taken away from the family during the most important part of his adolescent development, I'm allowed to be concerned about his wellbeing."

"Is that how you see it? Being 'taken away'?" Francis stopped chopping, turning to face Patrick "That's not how the courts saw it."

"Hey, I'm not gonna stand here and claim the old man was a good father," Patrick defended "But such a drastic shift in his environment would have more negative effects on his than the court took into account."

"Like the negative effect of not being afraid to go home?"

Patrick chewed on his tongue.

"I didn't come here to fight." He said calmly.

Francis stayed his hand. He and Patrick had almost come to blows years ago on this very topic – there was nothing they could say now that they hadn't said then.

"Arthur is doing well at University." Francis relayed "He's got more freedom than he had at secondary school, so he's getting along with the work better. He's not brilliant or anything, but he's not struggling either. He does still work on the weekends to afford his books and such, but he still lives here so he doesn't have too many expenses."

"He still lives here?" Patrick clarified.

"Why do you think I asked you to come over so early?" Francis pointed out "He doesn't get home until about 7 on Wednesdays. Ivan has his own place closer to the campus, so he stays there a lot as well."

"And he doesn't think about moving out? Does he have his own car?"

"There's nothing wrong with Arthur living here." Francis defended "We aren't going to kick him out just because he's not a teenager anymore."

Patrick made a dissatisfied noise, scratching the back of his head.

"At a stretch, I can understand you still living here." He explained "First son, you feel responsible for the twins and such, but I thought Arthur was more independent."

"It's a bad economy. He can't afford to live on his own."

"Then why doesn't he ask for help? We three are pretty established, you know, we could pitch in. I know Angus has a baby on the way, but he can afford a couple hundred a month."

"Why would he ask you? He spent his whole life avoiding you. You're still his childhood villains!"

"Which is exactly why Jeanne shouldn't have been given custody of him!" Patrick cried, starting to get angry, but calmed himself down with a deep breath and a sigh "Arthur was taken away from the family just when he was starting to figure it out. If he had been allowed to stay-"

"Then he would have starved to death, or died of hypothermia or gone missing, since no one cared if he came home or not!"

"This again." Patrick groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose "Look-"

"I get it, Dr Kirkland is worried about his mental development." Francis interrupted "I was more worried about him dying!"

Patrick desperately looked like he wanted to say something, green eyes a little furious, but he held his composure. It seemed his work as a child psychologist had made him more patient. He crossed his arms over his chest, scratching absently.

"Arthur should move out. Even if he lives with Ivan or in dorms for a while. It'll be good for him. And it would be good for you to move out as well."

"It's inconvenient." Francis admitted "Do you have any idea how much childcare costs?"

"Francis, I'm only going to say this once, so listen carefully." Patrick said firmly "You are not their father."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"I know you want to do well by them and I applaud your efforts, but having a grown brother living at home is going to stifle everyones growth."

"That's ludicrous." Francis argued.

"Is it?" Patrick countered calmly "Your mother hasn't married since divorcing my father, has she? You think it's a coincidence that you turned 18 around the same time? With a grown son around, she doesn't need to find a man to take care of her, or heaven forbid learn to stand on her own feet emotionally. With you still in the house – the only brother he was able to form a post-adolescent connection to – Arthur feels no need to move out and start his own life, so lives in the perpetual limbo between adolescence and adulthood, waiting for the push from the nest that will never come. Matthew and Alfred will grow up seeing that their grown brothers are still at home and think it's normal, so won't make any attempts to stand out and strive for independence themselves. Meanwhile, you'll be stuck here playing father to your brothers and a de facto husband to your mother, never taking risks and growing more resentful as lifes milestones pass you by."

Francis was honestly speechless. He had never heard his situation summed up so devastatingly. He stayed living at home because he knew his mother would need help with Arthur and the twins, even through his college years and starting at his work. Moving out had never occurred to him before, let alone the dross Patrick had just spilled out!

"And you think me moving out will stop all that?" he asked.

Patrick nodded.

"You moving out will force Jeanne to schedule her time better and take more responsibility for her life. Without you here, Arthur will feel more pressure to become independent and think about his future, and the boys world will grow bigger as they have another place in the world that's 'home'."

"You're full of shit." Francis said.

"And I get paid very handsomely for doling it out." Patrick pointed out.

"Every time you come around I'm reminded why we don't speak much."

Patrick snorted in laughter, uncrossing his arms.

"You called me." He reminded him.

"What the hell for?"

The two looked around – a haggard looking Arthur lurked in the kitchen doorway, bag slung over his shoulder. He regarded Patrick with suspicion, dark bags under his eyes.

"Hey, baby brother!" Patrick greeted jovially "You're looking tired, shorty."

"Had to work last night." He grumbled "Shouldn't you be at work this time in the afternoon?"

"Hey, you're early!" Francis tried to distract him "What happened to your afternoon lectures?"

"Cancelled. Ivan'still has lectures, so I thought I'd grab some shut eye." He said as he scratched his head, looking at his feet.

"I had the afternoon off myself." Patrick lied "So I thought I'd drop by and see the little ones."

"Don't psychoanalyse them." Arthur ordered immediately, causing his red-haired brother to laugh.

"I thought I'd psychoanalyse you, actually!" he teased "Wet the bed lately, Arthur?"

Arthur scowled. Francis scowled equally as hard in Patricks direction.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" he insisted under their hard stares.

"Hilarious." Arthur said, completely dead pan before turning to Francis "I'm going to bed. Wake me up when dinner's ready."

"Hey, at least play with me a while!" Patrick protested.

Arthur growled at him before leaving the kitchen. As he disappeared from sight, the smile fell from Patricks face.

"He still hates me." He knew.

"Well, what did you expect?"

"Let's… not start this again."

* * *

When Patrick left, Francis tip-toed up the stairs. The boys had gone quiet, which usually meant they were up to no good, and since they weren't in the playroom, living room or garden, his suspicions only grew. What were they up to?

Nothing, it turned out – the boys lay on either side of Arthur on his bed, all three sleeping soundly. Well crap, now they weren't going to sleep at bedtime. It was, however, adorable, and Francis couldn't resist taking a picture and setting it as his phone wallpaper. As he admired his handiwork, he got a text from his mother, startling him to the point that he nearly dropped it. She was going to be late again. Francis sighed – he had wanted to go out with Antonio and Gilbert tonight.

Patricks words rung out in his mind. He had never envisioned living on his own before, but… well, the boys weren't babies anymore. He certainly wouldn't mind a little more freedom… it wouldn't hurt to see how much it would cost him. Closing the door quietly, he took his laptop from his room and sat at the kitchen table, browsing local realty.

* * *

"And why exactly do you need a house? Are you too good for a flat?"

Francis stopped admiring the mouldings and looked across the empty room at Arthur, who loitered by the patio doors, the early evening sun illuminating his scruffy golden hair. He had convinced his little brother to come looking at houses with him after uni, since doing these things on your own was pretty depressing and his friends were busy at work.

"It's all about forward thinking." Francis explained "If I buy a house, I won't have to move to a bigger place when I get married. And if I decide to move later on, I'll have a better mortgage available to me, or else I can rent this place out to a local family. I still have some inheritance money left, I can afford to buy a 4 bedroom house straight out."

"And in the meantime you'll have 3 empty bedrooms to clean. You know that's how mould and damp sets in, right?"

"No, I'll have one office and a guest room with bunk beds for the boys." Francis corrected.

"So who's in the other bedroom, dummy?"

"You are, dummy."

"Eh?"

Francis smiled at the surprised expression on Arthurs face. He jumped forward, grabbed his hand and pulled him around the rest of the house.

"It's the time of our lives, Arthur!" he swore as he pulled him into the kitchen "It's time to fly the nest and see where the wind takes us!"

"So the wind takes us into a mortgage? And for that matter, what makes you think I want to live with you? If I'm moving out of Jeannes place, doesn't it make more sense to move in with Ivan?"

"It makes more sense for you to move in with me, considering I'm your brother! Just because you're leaving the nest doesn't mean you have to battle the storms."

"Your metaphors are mixed and obtrusive." Arthur complained "Speak plainly or I'll let Alfred have your hair scissors next time you're sleeping."

Francis laughed as he checked the cupboard space in the airy kitchen.

"I'm the oldest, it's only natural for me to fly the nest first." He explained "But I can't help but want to spoil you a little – this place is closer to the campus and both our works than mums house, which is closer to the boys school. It's healthy for us to live on our own, but that doesn't mean we have to live alone!"

"Which brings me back to why you don't think I'd want to live with Ivan."

Francis couldn't answer honestly. Putting on his best smile, he pulled Arthur into the dining room.

"If you lived with Ivan, I'd never see you!" he said "Your boyfriend and all your friends are on campus. You can do your own washing, so you'd never come home! I know the boys would miss you terribly as well. Ivan can stay here some nights, you know."

"I imagine he'll be thrilled to know that."

Francis opened and closed the bay windows before pulling Arthur down the hall and up the stairs.

"Think about it as a litmus test for life." He suggested "If you can't live alone with your brother, how can you live alone with Ivan?"

"I like Ivan more than you." Arthur said bluntly.

"Yes, but he's not _family_, is he? No matter how much you dislike me, you'll always be my brother."

"Unless you do a DNA test."

Francis smacked Arthur over the head, playfully pushing him into the master bedroom.

"Stop being a brat when I'm trying to be a good brother."

Arthur grumbled, tapping his toes against the hardwood floor.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you didn't like Ivan." He suggested.

He didn't look happy when Francis didn't immediately deny it.

"He bothers me." Francis admitted, sticking his hands in his pockets "I know you two bonded over your rough childhoods, but his refusal to be independent from you concerns me. I think it wouldn't hurt you to spend some time apart."

"Typical." Arthur muttered, heading for the door of the room, but Francis grabbed his hand and pulled him back.

"Hey hey, what's typical?" he protested "Big brother is just concerned about you!"

"That's the same bullshit Katyusha gave us when we started going out!" Arthur told him "That we don't really love each other, we're just too scared to look for affection anywhere else. You just jumped to that conclusion without ever asking me how I felt!"

Arthur shook off Francis hand, so the taller man blocked the door with his body.

"That's not at all what I meant!" he swore, placing his hands on Arthur shoulders "You're the one jumping to conclusions!"

"Then what did you mean, pray tell?" Arthur challenged "You're honestly going to tell me this isn't some scheme to split us apart?"

"It is absolutely not!" he swore "It's like how we enrolled Matthew in scouts and Alfred in the football club – it doesn't stop them being brothers, they're just becoming a little independent from one another."

"Who says I want to be independent? I'm happy the way things are!"

All of the fucks! What pissed Francis off more than the unexpected fight with Arthur was the fact that Patrick was quickly being proven right. He took a deep breath – he wasn't going to let Arthur get him mad, or he'd certainly lose the fight. He smiled.

"I'm sorry." He said earnestly "I took it for granted that you and Ivan had always been together. I never stopped to consider your feelings. Tell your big brother. I'll promise I'll listen."

Arthurs ears went red. He wasn't able to look Francis in the eye. The older man waited, still blocking the door so the student couldn't run.

"The world is hard." He muttered sadly "It's cold and desolate and lonely. Ivan is warm and gentle and he's always there. People think he's clinging to me, but it's the other way around: I'm scared that if I let him go, all the love in my life will go with him."

"Arthur-"

"I told Ivan that. Once. He kissed me and said I was silly." Arthur started to shake a little "I love Ivan. All my successes are thanks to him. I need him."

Francis took Arthur in his arms, stroking his hair soothingly. This was exactly why Francis didn't like Ivan – not because he had done anything, but because of co-dependence with Arthur that left them both nervous wrecks at the mere thought of being apart from each other. He and Katyusha had discussed it years ago when they chose the same A level courses and started working at the same place, but neither wanted to push their little brothers away by pointing how unhealthy it was.

"You love Ivan." Francis conceded "And big brother loves you. I'm not trying to pull you and Ivan apart, I swear. I won't make you choose between us. When Ivans rent agreement is up, why doesn't he move in with us?"

"You wouldn't mind?"

"I rarely see you without him as it is. If it means I see my little brother more, I can stand to live with another man."

He released Arthur, who had stopped shaking, but still looked upset. He smiled at him again before pulling him to look at the other bedrooms.

* * *

The humidity was palpable. Taking baths was nice, especially after a long day, even if the harsh yellow light aggravated Arthurs sore head. He swore the only reason Ivan picked this flat was because the bathtub was so bloody big – not that Arthur got to enjoy its size, mind you, with a giant like Ivan in the tub with him. He was a little upset that Arthur had gone off with Francis for the afternoon, so was being more clingy than usual, wrapping his arms around Arthur and kissing his neck, despite the heat of the water and the steam filling the air. Arthurs head had been throbbing for a while, and Ivans arms around him felt good, so he leaned into his torso.

"I don't want to live with Francis." Ivan admitted gently "He bothers me. He's far too touchy for just being your brother."

"I know what you mean." Arthur agreed "But we wouldn't have to pay so much in rent and utilities, so we could save up for when we leave Hetalia after graduation. You know how Katyusha's uncomfortable with you living on your own – she'd probably feel better about you living with Francis."

"I'm not on my own. I have you. That's why you give me rent."

"That's only fair. I stay here all week." Arthur sighed, ribboning his fingers in with Ivans "I guess living with Francis would just be that last buffer against the world before having to face it just the two of us. Finding work after graduation won't be easy. I mean, I don't want to be a cocktail waiter forever."

Ivan 'hmm'd, kissing Arthurs neck again.

"If you want, I'll live with Francis for a while." He agreed reluctantly "But I want to negotiate terms with you."

"What did you have in mind?"

Ivan laughed full throatily, squeezing Arthur a little, but didn't reveal what he was thinking. As he kissed Arthur more, the angle of his head caught his attention.

"You always stare at that corner when we have a bath." He pointed out "Is there something there?"

Arthur squeezed his hand, tilting his head to let Ivan kiss him on the mouth.

"Nothing you need to worry about."

* * *

Arthurs heart was in his stomach, keeping his head and throat company. He stared at his phone, trying to decipher the meaning behind the symbols. Lilly and Aarav looked over his shoulder, curious at his sudden lack of facial colour and noise.

"Your big brothers want to meet with you?" Aarav asked "Do you suppose something bad happened?"

"Arthur doesn't get along with his brothers at all." Lilly told him "He didn't even go to his big brothers wedding."

"Yikes! If I didn't go my siblings weddings, my mother would have killed me for sure. Hang on, don't you live with your brothers?"

"I live with my younger brothers." Arthur explained, finally finding words "These are my older brothers."

"Ah."

"There are seven of them." Lilly elaborated.

"Wow."

The young Indian man and blonde girl sat back down on the grass to finish their lunch, curiosity satiated. With an aggravated sigh, he threw his phone back into his bag.

"If I'm lucky, the old man's dead." He thought aloud.

"That's an awful thing to say!" Aarav scolded.

"I've met him." Lilly told him "He was my dentist for a while. None of his sons like him."

"Even so, you shouldn't wish your father dead."

"We'll see." Arthur said, stuffing his sandwich in his mouth.

What did those three want? He didn't appreciate Patrick randomly turning up at his house the other week, now Francis was moving out and the three stooges wanted to meet with him? Something was going on, and he didn't like it. He didn't want to talk to his brothers – he had barely had any contact with them at all since the divorce, what did they want now?

* * *

So, where did I get the name 'Aarav' for India? According to google, it was the most popular Indian boys name in 2011. I know a lot of people prefer to call him 'Raj', but I can't think of an Indian in popular culture that isn't called Raj.

For those who thought Arthurs brothers had disappeared into the night - sorry, they've got more to do before they can retire. Did grown up Patrick meet your expectations? Also, while Arthur and Ivan are indeed a couple, this isn't a romance story - sorry again.

Got a problem with that? Love it and want to see more? Drop me a review, you lovely people!


	6. Chapter 6 Wires

My computer crashed three times while writing this. THREE TIMES! The last time, for some reason Word hadn't autosaved in a hour, so I lost the entire end of the chapter and had to write it again. I don't think it's as good, but after rewriting it three times, I'm sick of it. I hope you can enjoy it regardless.

* * *

**Wires.**

Whatever it was seemingly couldn't wait. The moment lectures were over, Owen was waiting for Arthur in the university car park, leant over his little red car keeping his beady eye out for him. He waved and hollered when he saw Arthur, attracting the attention of everyone else in the vicinity as well. He said goodbye to Lilly and Aarav, with whom he had already made plans for that afternoon, and begrudgingly crossed the asphalt. Owen was shorter than he remembered, but just as stocky, and his work tracksuit did him no favours.

"Get in." he ordered immediately "We've got a drive ahead."

He really, really didn't want to. He didn't want to go anywhere with Owen, let alone somewhere that was a decent drive away. However, his brothers expression was pretty serious, so with great reluctance he opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat. As Owen got in and started the car, Arthur pulled out his phone and texted Ivan, who he imagined would be just as pleased with the situation as he was.

Owens car smelled gross, like old sweat and mould – taking a glance in the back seat, Arthur saw old sports equipment and dirty gym clothes piled high in the back seat. He rolled the window down, hoping the breeze would get rid of the smell.

"What's wrong with you?" Owen asked as they got to the main road.

"It stinks." Was his honest answer.

"It's the smell of success." Owen said without missing a beat "The team made it to the national competitions this year."

"Sounds generic."

"The netball team!"

"That's thrilling."

Owen grumbled, but Arthur couldn't bring himself to give a fuck about Coach Kirkland and his arbitrary little sports teams. He got a reply from Ivan almost immediately, asking Arthur to tell him where he was going.

"Where are we going?" he asked his brother.

"The city." Was his brusque answer as he changed gear "Tell Francis not to get his knickers in a knot, I'll bring you back."

"It's Ivan, not Francis."

"You still hang out with that kid? He still got that scarf?"

"He's my boyfriend."

Owen nearly crashed into the car in front of them – his face was a picture of shock and disgust as he desperately tried to keep his eyes on the road.

"I knew you spent too much time with Francis." He muttered, but said nothing else for almost the entire rest of the journey.

After a long and awkward journey, Owen finally pulled into the car park of the large hospital in the city closest to the town of Hetalia. Maybe the old man was dying afterall? He hadn't seen him since the social services took him to Jeannes house, and truth be told he wasn't sure if he could remember what he looked like. However, as they made their way through the clean and cluttered hospital, it became pretty clear they were heading for the maternity ward.

Owen wasn't married – had he knocked up some woman? No, he seemed too uncomfortable in the environment. Patrick? Arthur was pretty sure the good Doctor Kirkland was single too. Angus was married, but that had been less than a year ago – a shotgun wedding? Did they have any cousins who were having kids? If they were, even if they gave a shit about Arthur, his brothers wouldn't have told him. Who'd had a baby?

Patrick loitered in the hallway, chewing on the end of an already tortured biro, leant against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Spying Owen and Arthur coming up quick, he stood straight and put the pen in his breast pocket – he looked haggard and frustrated, but smiled as they approached.

"Afternoon, boys." He greeted "Thanks for coming."

"How's mum and baby?" Owen asked.

"Meredith's still in surgery – the bleeding was pretty bad, they have to perform an emergency hysterectomy. It'll take a while. As for him…"

Patrick cocked his head towards the swinging double doors on the other side of the hallway.

"Dad's watching baby." Patrick told them "He's been waiting for the Angel."

"The Angel?" Owen seemed confused.

Patrick looked at Arthur. Meredith? The name rung a bell, but he couldn't place where he'd heard it. Without a word, Patrick took Arthur by the shoulder and led him into the room. It was horrendously clean, every surface white and stainless steel, not a single item of clutter on any surface. On a low stool in the centre of the room, his eldest brother was slumped, unmoving, staring straight ahead. In the absurdly harsh light, Arthur could see the shine of the clear plastic incubator. Everything clicked.

"Angus?" Patrick called softly "The boys are here."

Angus stayed sitting, not even registering that he had heard him. Patrick pushed Arthur forward gently before leaving the room silently. Arthur was immediately awkward – what did he have to say to Angus? Especially now? He wasn't sure what to do, what to say, if he should speak at all. However, he was struck by an overwhelming curiosity that he couldn't deny – he wanted to see the baby. Quiet as a church mouse, he crept forward, keeping his hands on his bag strap. As he did, he heard Angus singing gently. A lullaby? The infant that lay in the incubator was tiny and bright red, its nappy looking positively absurd on its spindle thin limbs. The only movement was the rise and fall of its tiny chest, the only sound the gentle quiet beep of the heart monitor.

Arthur was no expert, but he could see this tot was quite premature – Alfred and Matthew, despite being a multiple birth, had been much larger.

"His name's Peter." Angus announced, startling Arthur, but still didn't look around, keeping his eyes on the incubator.

"Oh, a boy? Congratulations."

After a moment, Angus got to his feet – he was slow, his shoulders looked stiff. His face was pallid, his eyes red rimmed and hung with heavy black bags, like a man who hadn't slept for a month. He was smaller than Arthur remembered, even his hands and the broadness of his shoulders.

"There was a car accident." He mumbled "Meredith went into labour. They couldn't stop the bleeding. She might die. They both might die."

"Uh… I'm sorry."

Arthur had nothing good to say to Angus, but… he just couldn't be a prick to a man so clearly on the edge. He wanted to say something supportive, but life hadn't prepared him for this moment. He simply stood there, feeling impotent under his brothers gaze. Finally, Angus reached forward, placing his hand on Arthur shoulder.

"Arthur," he said seriously "Will you be his godfather?"

"Who-me?!" he stuttered in honest shock "Why?"

Was he serious? Really?! The two of them hadn't spoken at all in at least 5 years, and he was much closer to Patrick than he was to Arthur. What was he playing at? What was he after? Whose idea was this?

Angus' eyes started to water. His grip in Arthurs shoulder tightened.

"It's got to be good luck." He swore "If you're watching over him, I know he'll be okay."

"Angus-"

"You were smaller than him, when you were born." Angus revealed, deep voice shaking "The angels watch over you, Arthur. The moment you came into the world, you were our mums mirror in all ways, so you're double blessed. Please… please, give Peter one of your blessings! Use whatever magic you have to watch over him! I'm begging you!"

Angus openly cried, clutching Arthur shoulders with both hands, knees buckling as his throat grew coarse. As the tears burst from his eyes, every image of Angus his brother had was shattered – the strong, bullying, all-powerful Angus… where was he now? This man wasn't him, praying for miracles and magic to save his son. The ice in his heart that occupied the space of Angus melted just a little under the heat of his brothers tears, making room for his tiny, delicate little nephew.

He took Angus by the shoulders, and the older man looked up at him, eyes shining with the only hope he could grasp.

"I'll be his godfather." He promised.

Angus smiled, still crying, and threw his arms around his little brother, not even trying to hide his tears as the monitor beeped quietly to itself.

* * *

Owen didn't have the intellectual dexterity to ask Arthur where he lived, instead dropping him back at the campus where he picked him up. He immediately walked the five minutes to Ivans place, letting himself in to find the larger man at the stove. Ivan was immediately concerned, especially when he saw the expression on his face.

"Godfather?" he asked as the two of them sat down to dinner "That's… um… a little…"

"Unexpected? Sudden? Out-of-the-blue? Completely random?"

"Yes."

Arthur finished shovelling the spaghetti into his mouth before answering.

"I don't expect anything will change." He admitted "Angus was out of his mind with worry; I doubt he was thinking straight. Once Peter and Meredith are out of the hospital he'll forget all about me and name Patrick godfather."

"What's this about Angels? I didn't know Angus and Patrick were religious."

"Me neither. I guess they were clutching at straws or something – you know how people get in hospitals."

"I suppose…" Ivan ate some spaghetti, looking awkwardly at Arthur "Are you going back to the hospital?"

"I think I should. I guess. Just for now. I mean… it wouldn't be bad to check in on my nephew. If he doesn't make it, I mean…"

"Okay, we'll go." Ivan agreed "I'll borrow Katyushas car. We can be there by about 2."

Arthur got up from his seat and kissed Ivan on the forehead before going to the kitchen to grab a drink. Ivan smiled happily and turned his attention back to his spaghetti.

* * *

Francis held Matthews hand as they walked down the street – despite being nearly ten years old, the boy was always so away-with-the-faeries that his brothers were terrified he was going to be hit by a car or wonder off following a cloud and get horrendously lost. Today, however, he seemed down, looking at the ground as he shuffled along. Francis was a little concerned – Matthew was quiet, but generally speaking he was a happy little boy, so seeing him sulky was concerning.

"What's wrong, little man?" he asked "Did something bad happen at scouts to make you sad?"

Matthew shook his head, still pouting.

"It was fun." He muttered.

"Are you missing Alfred?"

He shook his head again. Francis stopped, kneeling down before the little boy, not really paying enough attention to his surroundings to notice he was blocking the pavement. He looked his little brother in the eye.

"Then why the frowny-face, Matthew?" he asked, adjusting his adorable scouts uniform a bit.

Matthew pouted a moment more, eyes flicking between the ground and his brother, like he was deciding if he should really tell him what was wrong. Finally, his violet eyes settled on his brothers face.

"Why didn't Arthur come get me?" he asked "He always gets me from scouts."

"I told you, didn't I? Arthur had to go see a friend in the hospital. He'll be home later."

Matthews eyes started to water and he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

"You don't like me?" Francis teased.

"I like you!" he bellowed right away, causing Francis to chuckle "But…"

Francis stayed quiet while Matthew found the words, twisting the hem of his shirt in his adorable little hands.

"When Arthur gets me from scouts, we get ice cream and play in the park on the way home." He revealed "He lets me get maple syrup flavour and he gets mint, even though it tastes like toothpaste. We talk about things and he tells me stories. It's the only time we spend together, just the two of us, 'cause Alfred is always all over him. And now you're moving out he won't pick me up anymore."

Matthews eyes started to water again. With another chuckle, Francis put his arms around him and ruffled his fluffy hair.

"It's just tonight, little man." Francis promised "Arthur will pick you up from scouts next time. We'll still see each other all the time!"

"We won't!" Matthew insisted "Alfred says so! He says you'll never come back, just like dad! We'll never see you again ever!"

Francis patted Matthews back, trying to be reassuring. Alfred had been in a pretty foul mood since the two announced they were upping their roots, refusing to talk to either of them. They had decided long ago to be good enough big brothers that the twins never missed their no-good father, but it seemed like it had affected the boys anyway.

"Oh, Matthew," he cooed "It's alright. Big brother isn't going to leave you – you're going to have your own room at my house, you know! And when you start secondary school, you boys will get your own keys, so you can come over whenever you want! We aren't going away, just… a little further away."

Matthew still sobbed, seeming unconvinced. Francis patted him on the head.

"I don't know any stories, but how about that ice-cream? I'll buy you maple syrup flavour, so don't be sad, ok?"

The boy nodded. Francis stood up and took his hand again, making a mental note to talk to Arthur later about the boys schedule (and diet. Ice cream three times a week? No wonder Alfred was chubby).

* * *

Owen was openly uncomfortable, standing behind Patrick with his arms crossed over his chest, only glancing at Ivan and Arthur before returning his eyes to the floor. Patrick, on his part, at least attempted to make conversation.

"How are your studies going, Ivan?" he asked.

"Economics is very dull." He explained "The good stuff is all things my sister taught me long ago, and the bad stuff is all about how to screw each other over, which isn't nice."

"Oh? Have you considered changing subjects?"

Ivan shook his head.

"Mr Wang is paying my tuition. When I graduate, I'll have a guaranteed job."

Patrick whistled.

"Sounds like a good deal, Ivan! What's the catch?"

"No catch." Ivan insisted "He's just very kind. My sister has worked for him a long time, and she's a very hard worker so his companies have done very well. He figures if she can do so much with little education, I can do even better with a degree. It's all business."

"So he'd have you believe." Arthur corrected "We were in the same class as his brother for a long time and hung out at his restaurant a lot. He thinks of Ivan as one of his little brothers."

"He does not!" Ivan insisted, blushing.

"He so does." Arthur teased.

"No more than he does you!"

"He didn't offer to put me through uni."

"Don't tease!"

Arthur chuckled as Ivans whole face went red – he never could handle being teased, and he'd never hear anything bad said about Mr Wang. Neither young man noticed Patrick watching them closely, or Owen trying not to look at them at all.

"So you've got a guaranteed job after graduating." Patrick confirmed "Is that in Hetalia?"

"Yes, it is." Ivan confirmed, turning back from Arthur, still blushing a little "All Mr Wangs businesses are in Hetalia, and my big and little sisters are also. I don't need to go anywhere else."

"You moved around a lot before coming to Hetalia?"

"Yeah, we did."

"Hm." Patrick rubbed his chin "There aren't too many job opportunities in Hetalia – you're pretty lucky to have one lined up. I imagine you'll have to go further afield, eh Arthur?"

"No." Ivan said immediately before Arthur could answer "I'll make enough money for us both, so Arthur can do just what makes him happy."

"I'm not going to living off Ivan!" Arthur corrected right away "I'll find a job."

"Eh?" Ivan looked back at him "But you don't have to."

"Just because-"

Arthur noticed the look on Patricks face and closed his mouth, crossing his arms over his chest.

"We'll talk about it later."

Ivan picked up the tone right away, putting his hands in his lap awkwardly. The double doors in front of them swung open slowly as Angus walked out, still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. He scratched his head and cricked his back as his brothers stood from the harsh plastic seats they had been perched on. He seemed calmer than yesterday, but also paler, the bags under his eyes darker. He smiled appreciatively as Patrick passed him a bag of fresh clothes.

"You look like shit." Patrick told him "Go wash your face, or you'll scare your boy for life the first time he opens his eyes."

Angus chuckled bitterly and punched him on the shoulder.

"Aye." He said quietly "I'll be back. You can go in if you're quiet."

Angus stalked off down the hall, wobbling slightly as he went. Owen went to go into the room, but Patrick stopped him.

"Why don't you stay here with Ivan?" he suggested "Arthur's not met Meredith yet, and we don't want to bombard the lady."

"Buh?"

Owen looked decidedly unhappy at the prospect, but stayed back as Patrick put his arm around Arthur shoulder and pulled him into the room. Ivan looked just as unhappy, the two regarding each other warily.

In the room, little Peter was of course still in his incubator, the reassuring steady beep filling the air. The low stool Angus had sat upon yesterday lay vacant and beside it a proper, comfortable looking chair had been positioned.

"Meredith, love." Patrick called softly "How are you feeling, pet?"

The back of the chair was tall, so Patrick didn't wait for the woman sat in it to crane around to see them before pulling Arthur forward. Post-operation, it was probably a bad idea anyway. She did, however look around to greet them, and Arthur was immediately struck dumb – of all the things he had imagined about his brothers wife, she was none of them.

Meredith was a petite woman, no more than five foot three, with thin, pale limbs and big blue eyes. Her straight hair was a light, sandy blonde, and she was built so slight it seemed a good breeze would blow her off her feet. She wasn't unpretty, but her looks were immature to the point that Arthur had to wonder how old she actually was (he hoped she was at least his age, considering how old Angus was). On closer inspection, she reminded him a lot of Lilly (which was in no way an insult). Meredith looked surprised to see him, looking at Patrick as if to ask 'who's this?', but seeing the bright green eyes and dark eyebrows all the Kirkland boys shared, she seemed to figure it out on her own, and smiled warmly in greeting.

"I'm alright, Patrick." She greeted, her voice as airy and immature as her looks "I'm sore and numb all over at the same time somehow, but I'm okay. You must be Arthur."

She barely moved at all as she talked, her hands laid in her lap with a warm looking blanket draped over her shoulders.

"Yes, I am." He confirmed "Pleasure to meet you, Meredith."

Moving as little as possible, she patted the low stool beside her, gesturing him to sit. He did, putting his bag on the floor at his feet.

"You're just how Angus described you." She told him "I'm glad I'm finally meeting you, Arthur."

"Yes. Uh, likewise."

* * *

Arthur wasn't sure what to say. He was regretting for a moment not having gone to their wedding, just so he had something to say to her now that wasn't entirely awkward or inappropriate. She looked much more put together than Angus had yesterday, so he didn't think he needed to reassure her or anything.

"I'm a nursery nurse." He announced, snapping him out of his head "I work with 1 to 4 year olds."

"Oh, um, I'm a waiter. I mean, I go to uni, but also… yeah…"

Meredith chuckled happily.

"What are you studying?" she asked.

"Uh, folklore." He admitted, expecting the usual questions of how many job opportunities there really were in it.

"Angus told me you like stories." She revealed "He said you were always reading and talking to faeries when you were little. Are you going to be a storybook writer?"

"I… I hadn't really thought about it." He said, surprised by her gentle frankness.

"I hope you do." She told him, looking back at the tiny body in the incubator "I was hoping to read Peter your stories. Patrick says your little brothers like them a lot as well."

"I don't write them." He defended "It's old folklore, I just… retell it, I guess."

Meredith just smiled at his awkwardness. With nothing to do with his hands, he ended up playing with his nails. Patrick stood patiently behind her chair, just watching their exchange.

"Did Angus ask you to be godfather?" she asked, startling him again.

"Ah, um, yeah, he did." Arthur admitted, but decided to keep his feelings on the matter to himself.

"I'm glad. I don't have any siblings, so it was a little difficult for me to understand, but Angus was sure it had to be you – he thought your magic would keep Peter safe." She finished with a chuckle.

"There's no such thing as magic."

Both Meredith and Patrick looked at him in concern as he said that. He didn't look at either of them, instead staring at little Peter. Patrick picked the biro from his pocket and started to chew it again.

"I think magic definitely exists." Meredith disagreed, smiling at him once again "There are so many wonderful things in life that can't be explained by science. I wouldn't want to raise a child in a world without magic."

Arthur looked at her. He simply couldn't reconcile that thug Angus with a woman like this, practically a faery in all but height – he was the one who beat in Arthur most of all that faeries and magic were nothing more than stories.

"You know, the doctors say Peter can hear us." Meredith went on "Angus has been watching his language for months, worried that he'll hear him swearing, even before we knew what gender he was."

"Is that so?"

"So I was thinking," she said "Would you tell him a story?"

"R…Right now?"

She nodded. Once again, Arthur was struck dumb. Could Peter really hear them? Even if he could, surely he would have no idea what he was saying. What would be the point? Surely the point of telling stories to a baby was to bond with them, so shouldn't one of his parents do it?

"I'm certain," she explained "That if you tell him a story, a really good story, that he'll like it for sure. If you wait until tomorrow to tell him the end, I'm sure he'll make sure to stay alive to hear it."

Ah. She was clutching at straws, the same as Angus. Arthur couldn't imagine how they must be feeling, completely helpless to do anything for Peter – even Arthur was a little frustrated by his uselessness, and he hadn't had any time to bond with the idea of being an uncle yet. Meredith may look more put together than Angus did yesterday, but the pair were no more in control of the situation.

His cynicism melted a little as he thought about Alfred and Matthew, and how he felt when they were sick – sure enough, he would tell them stories and give them medicine and ice cream until they felt better. He supposed Angus and Meredith couldn't even do that for Peter. With a sigh, he turned back to Peter.

"This is the tale of Lob, the Lubber Fiend, also known as Robin Goodfellow." He said softly, trying to ignore Merediths grin beside him "That fool, Jan Lubber Fiend, will ever be at his tricks…"

* * *

Ivan and Arthur didn't say much to each other on the ride home. Arthur seemed tired and Ivan seemed upset, so the silence between them was unusually tense. They dropped the car off as Katyushas, but declined to stay for dinner, since they could both tell the other was out of sorts, instead heading back to campus.

The streets they knew like the back of their hands, having made them their own years ago in the very same night they walked in now, but it felt different somehow. The streets were small, no longer forbidden or exciting as they had once been – neither felt the need to duck into the shadows or peak around corners for policemen as they strolled. The night wasn't as cold as the nights of their memories, not as long or dangerous, but like an old friend who came for tea and left shortly after. It was the silence between them that was something new, not the old silence that was merely quiet, but one that actively drew the words from them and locked them away. It wasn't pleasant, and neither liked it.

"How was Peter?" Ivan asked finally, hands in his coat pocket and head buried in his scarf against the chill night air.

"Much the same as yesterday." Arthur admitted "Patrick says he be in the hospital a while yet."

"You believe everything your brothers say all of a sudden?" he spat.

"Beg pardon?"

They both stopped. Ivan looked immediately bereft, sighing heavily.

"I'm sorry." He said, looking Arthur in the eye "I don't mean to take it out on you, but… your brothers said some things and they upset me."

"What did they say?"

Bloody typical – of course his brothers hadn't changed, why would they? They were just being nice to Arthur while Peter was in hospital, turning their aggression on Ivan instead! They were just putting on a good face while they needed him, they'd stop soon enough… no wonder he hadn't spoken to them in years. Fucking Angus!

"Your brother Owen," Ivan began, growing more openly upset as he spoke "He doesn't like us being a couple. He said you would be better off if I left you."

"Owen's a fucking idiot." Arthur spat "He's a bloody games teacher for fucks sake, I'm surprised he can hold a fucking pen without poking his fucking eye out."

"Arthur?"

"Sorry, sorry." He took a deep breath, blowing it out through his nose "I don't mean to snap. I'm upset too."

Ivan looked at him, worried. Putting his bag down, he leant over and kissed Arthur on the mouth – it wasn't anything passionate, but warm and comforting. As it ended, Arthur sighed again and put his forehead on Ivans ample shoulder.

"I'm sorry my brother was being awful to you." He said calmly.

Ivan was silent a moment, the kind of silence that secrets were kept in. He went stiff a moment before speaking.

"He offered me money." He revealed "To go away. He said it's not normal. That you'd never be okay while you were with me."

Arthur took his head off Ivans shoulder and looked in his violet eyes. He looked like he was about to cry.

"You know that's not true." Arthur said absolutely.

"I know, but… I guess I'm sad. Even though my sisters were unhappy with our relationship, it was because they were worried. They didn't call me abnormal."

"Owen's a dick." Arthur repeated "I won't make you come to the hospital again."

Ivan shook his head.

"I don't want you alone with them." He confessed "They hurt you badly years ago. Now you're older they may not be so violent, but they'll be far more cruel. I'd worry if you went alone."

Arthur resolved to punch Owen in the face. He was an idiot, so at least his cruelty was simple and easy to deal with. Homophobic prick.

"You weren't tempted, were you?" Arthur teased, hoping to lighten his mood.

"Of course not!" Ivan went bright red, only calming down and blushing when Arthur smiled mischievously "Don't tease me. Mean."

Arthur kissed him playfully. Ivan started to put his arms around him, but a thought struck Arthur and he stopped him.

"Angus didn't say anything to you, did he?" he asked.

The tall man looked slightly upset at being denied, but shook his head.

"He didn't say anything. I think he was too worried about his son to care that I was even there."

"And Patrick?"

He shook his head again.

"Patrick's the one you need to watch out for!" Arthur warned him "He'll get in your head and make himself a little nest and just fuck with you. Owen's a jerk and Angus is a brute, Patrick's the real threat!"

Ivan averted his eyes, and immediately Arthur knew his warning was overdue. Arthur grabbed his arm to stop him escaping.

"What did he say?" Arthur demanded.

Ivan tried not to look at him, but after a decade he couldn't hide anything from Arthur. He sighed.

"I have a job waiting for me." He recalled "Here in Hetalia. I have no need to go anywhere else. I'm going to make enough money to support us both. You don't need to work. I thought it would make you happy, just doing things that you enjoy, but if you really want to work… if I knew that, I would have insisted you studied something else, something that meant you could get a job here."

"What made you think I wouldn't want to work?" Arthur asked, honestly surprised that such thoughts had crossed his mind "I've had a job since I was 16! Hell, we used to wait tables for Mr Wang when we were 14! I've always worked."

"Because you had to!" Ivan knew "You didn't want to be a burden on Jeanne."

"Then why would I want to be a burden on you?"

"You wouldn't be a burden! We're together, so-"

"Part of being together is taking equal responsibility!" Arthur insisted "Including splitting bills and paying an equal share of the expenses! I could understand if I were a woman and we were planning on starting a family, but that's not really a factor here!"

"I don't understand why you're mad!" Ivan confessed "I thought you would enjoy just doing what you wanted!"

"And just leave you to take all the responsibilities for yourself? That's hardly fair!"

"But… I'm saying you can read books and bake scones and do your needlework all day, all the time! Why wouldn't you want that? Why would that make you unhappy?"

"Why?" Arthur sighed, trying to find the words to explain as Ivan gripped his arms "How would you feel if I told you that I never wanted you to work, just stay at home and let me completely support you financially. Would that make you happy?"

"Of course not."

"Because?"

Ivan went bright red. His eyes darted about like he was looking for a lie, grip on Arthurs arms tightening. Finally, he dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around Arthur waist was holding him so tight he was sure he was going to snap in half.

"Because you support me in all other ways already!" he confessed, voice muffled by the fabric of Arthurs coat "If I let you support me financially as well, I'd be completely worthless as a human being, let alone a man!"

"Ivan, that's not true-"

"It is true! You're all the best parts of me, Arthur! You're my joy when I'm sad, my courage when I'm scared, my serenity and my comfort and my warmth! What am I? What can I do for you? I'm useless! This is all I can do for you, Arthur, when you do so much for me!"

"Ivan-"

"I'll do whatever it takes to keep you with me! Even if I have to work all day all the time, I'll do it! I won't let you leave me!"

As Ivan got louder, Arthur wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

"It's alright, love, it's alright." He cooed. "I'm not going to leave you. It's okay..."

They stayed like that for a long time, growing colder and darker as the night did the same, before Ivan finally stood again, and the two of them wandered home.

* * *

"Are you alright there, Owen?" Patrick asked as the two of them drove along the pitch black motorway "You're awfully quiet over there."

Owen sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed tightly over his chest, clearly a ball of tension. He ground his teeth.

"That Ivan kid," he admitted "He bothers me."

"I don't want to hear it!" Patrick said sternly "And don't you dare say a thing to Arthur!"

"But-"

"But nothing! We've finally got an opening to fix things with Arthur, I'm not having you screw that up!" he sighed, trying to keep his eyes on the road "He's a wrong word away from disowning us forever, and if you go criticising his partner, he'll definitely go! We've only got a limited time to make this work, so if you can't think of anything nice to say, keep your bloody mouth shut!"

"I don't understand why."

"Because you're an idiot."

"Not that! I don't understand why you think this is our only chance to bond with Arthur."

"Because you're an idiot." Patrick repeated "If you knew even the slightest thing about psychology, you'd know there are certain points in a person's life when they're more open to change and empathising with people they previously didn't. We missed the last – and most important! – time when Jeanne took him away, and the next time is usually when they reach parenthood, but since he's gay that's not going to be happening. If we miss _this _chance – the transition period between a dependent student and an independent worker – who knows when we may be able to reach out to him again!"

"You're full of shit." Owen argued "As long as we're all alive, there's always chance to change things."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr Sports Teacher, please share with me your wisdom of the human mind! Fucking idiot."

"And anyway! If any of the bullshit you just came out with is true, why don't you just make him not be gay? You're a psychologist, you can do that!"

"I cannot believe that just came out of your mouth." Patrick growled "You think if it were that simple, that anyone would be gay?"

"Whatever. He just spent too much time with Francis."

"Francis isn't gay."

"You know what I think?"

"I don't care what you think. In fact, keep your fucking mouth shut the rest of the journey, or I'll kick you out and you can walk home."

A heavy and fractured silence filled the car, joining the late night in chilling the air between them. Patrick concentrated on the road while Owen ground his teeth.

"Gay or not, we need to split him up with that Ivan kid. He's unnatural." Owen went on.

"I am begging you to shut up."

"I'm serious! He's not safe with that freak!"

Patricks mind whirred a moment.

"What did you do?" he knew.

"I offered him money to leave Arthur." He admitted.

"God dammit Owen!"

"That's not the bad part."

"O good god! You're not allowed to talk to Arthur anymore! You're not allowed to talk to anyone!"

"Will you shut up and listen? I'm trying to tell you something!" Owen huffed "That Ivan guy's a lunatic!"

"You're a lunatic!"

"He said he'd cut off Arthurs legs!"

Patrick stopped the car. Luckily for the brothers, it was late enough at night that a truck didn't immediately go ploughing into the back of them. Angier than he ever recalled being, Patrick turned to Owen, who visibly shrunk under his glare.

"He said he'd cut off Arthurs legs if he ever tried to leave him." He justified "That's not something normal people say."

Patrick grabbed his brother by the scruff of his shirt and hauled him across the car, bringing him right up to his nose.

"Don't talk to Arthur." He hissed "Don't talk to Ivan. Don't talk in general. If your caveman brain fucks this up for us, I am going to personally beat you to death."

He threw Owen back, started the car and continued the drive home in silence.

* * *

Not much Francis in this chapter, but more of Arthur brothers. Have they changed? Have they not? Could you tell I was frustrated with re-writing and re-writing the end? Drop me a line!


	7. Chapter 7 Disbelief

Ah, it took me a while to get this one out, but I've been trying to make the chapters longer than in my previous works. Is it working out for me? Has anyone even noticed? Regardless, please enjoy this feeble attempt...

* * *

**Disbelief.**

"…And then the volcanoes exploded and there was this gross junk everywhere and brown and bloopy and had bits in and the girls were all screaming and it was really really funny!"

"Is that so?"

"Oh yeah, and then-"

Arthur half listened to Alfred as he polished the glasses to an astronomical shine. There were no customers in the Chinnaty Club so early in the evening – in fact, it had yet to open – so the atmosphere was pretty relaxed. Arthur sat at the low round table in his jeans and vest, polished glasses as far from the boys as was possible. The twins sat at the low table beside him, text- and notebooks sprawled all about, supposedly doing their homework as Matthew doodled (with his tongue between his teeth), and Alfred talked at a million miles an hour about every single thought he had had that day. Behind the bar, Yong Soo wiped everything down and arranged the bottles while outside Berwald swept the frontage clean of litter and debris.

"…And so then, and so then, hey are you even listening?"

"Of course I'm listening, Alfred."

"Then what did I just say?"

"I'm not doing your homework for you, Alfred."

"Aww, but you like homework!"

"No one likes homework." Matthew muttered as he added splashes of blue to his doodle.

"I hate English! You really like it!"

"Ai-ya!" Mr Wang exclaimed "This isn't a crèche, you know!"

"Says the man feeding a baby!" Arthur quipped back.

Mr Wang sat on the chair opposite Arthur, completely unrepentant as he held his tiny niece in one hand and her bottle in the other, legs crossed daintily.

"My club, my rules." He said simply.

"What is an 'Eng' anyway?" Alfred whined, trying to balance his pencil on his upper lip "Eng-lish. Eng-land. Eng….?"

"Do you really want to know?" Arthur asked him "Or are you just stalling from doing your reading?"

"No way, I want to know!" he insisted as the pencil dropped to the ground.

Arthur doubted that he did, especially as he started to flip absently through his maths book. However, Matthew and Mr Wang were looking at him expectantly. He sighed.

"The 'e' sound at the beginning is a fairly recent pronunciation." He informed them "It used to be an 'a' sound. 'Angland.' The native people were known as the Angles before the Saxons invaded. Home of the Angles – Angland."

Alfred immediately started laughing, snorting a little as he ran out of breath. Matthew actually wrote it in the back of his notebook while Mr Wang pulled an impressed smile, gently tapping the babys back.

"Such a smart boy." He complimented "Yong Soo! You were in the same glass as him for years, why aren't you so smart?"

"I was too busy having a life!" he called from behind the bar.

"And now you work behind a bar! Where did your life get you, eh?"

Yong Soo just grinned, more than used to his brothers ribbing, and started to juggle with some of the empty bottles.

"Oi! You break those, you pay for them!"

Yong Soo laughed manically. Everyone was startled as the front door creaked open, and Arthurs heart fell when a familiar red head poked inside.

"We're closed!" Mr Wang barked immediately.

"Oh, I'm not here for a drink." Patrick assured "I'm here to see my little brothers. I'm-"

"I know who you are." Mr Wang spat, having known Arthur for a good decade "We are still closed. For you we are always closed."

"Hey now-" Patrick started to protest, flashing a grin.

"What do you want, Patrick?" Arthur interrupted.

"I haven't seen you at the hospital for a couple of days, Arthur." Patrick pointed out, coming into the building completely and closing the door behind him, much to Mr Wangs annoyance.

"Believe it or not, I'm pretty busy." He pointed out "I don't have time to go traipsing off to the city everyday to see people I… don't much care for."

Patrick grinned, realising his little brother was censoring himself in front of his baby brothers.

"I understand, Arthur." He assured "I held down a job when I was studying my doctorate, and I didn't have any childcare responsibilities."

Patrick casually walked towards them, pulling up a chair at Matthew and Alfreds table. Mr Wang actively turned his whole body away from him, attention on winding his niece.

"How about we set up a schedule?" Patrick proffered "That way Angus and Meredith will know when to expect you. I'll even pick you up. What do you say?"

"Who are Angus and Meredith?" Alfred asked as another excuse to ignore his homework presented itself.

"Your big brother and his wife." Patrick explained with a laugh.

"I have another big brother?!" Alfred exclaimed "Bigger than Francis?!"

Patrick was openly shocked, whole body going unnaturally stiff.

"Yes." He said after a moment "Three of them… of which I'm one…"

"Eeeeehhhh?!" both twins exclaimed in unison.

Patrick turned a disbelieving eye to Arthur, who only shrugged.

"You've seen them maybe 4 times since the divorce, Patrick, and you weren't exactly around a lot before then – what did you expect?"

"I expected them to at least know I existed!" he declared.

"Oh, I wanted to tell them." Mr Wang informed him "Whenever they start misbehaving, I want to say 'if you don't stop doing that, your big brothers will come and get you and throw you out into the snow with no clothes on.' Like you did to Arthur. Twice."

Patrick scowled, cocking his head in thought as he reached for the biro in his pocket.

"Hey hey, aren't you a doctor?" Alfred asked him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Yes, that's right." Patrick said airily, clearly an expert at hiding his annoyance when talking to children "I'm a psychologist. And your father's a doctor too."

"He's a dentist." Arthur corrected.

"That's a type of doctor."

"So what does Angus do?" Alfred went on.

"He's an architect. Your brother Owen's a Games teacher."

"Wow…" Alfred marvelled "Like… proper, professional jobs."

"That's right." Patrick confirmed "You mother and big brother work in artistic trades, don't they?"

"Hair dressing's vocational." Matthew muttered.

"That's a big word for a 9 year old." Patrick complimented.

Matthew wasn't good at hiding his feelings – he got up from his chair, taking his books with him, and sat on the other side of Mr Wang. Patrick pretended to sulk.

"You liked me the other day."

"Doctors do a lot of science, right?" Alfred went on, ignoring his brothers desertion.

"Yes, lots." Patrick confirmed again "Maths too. Angus has to do lots and lots of maths so the houses he designs don't fall down."

"Maths and science and sports…" Alfred muttered, putting his hands around his knees "My big brothers do those types of things too…"

"You like those types of things, Alfred?" Patrick asked.

"Yeah." He admitted "But only Ivan is good at that stuff, and he doesn't like me much."

"Hm."

"This is not talking hour!" Mr Wang snapped "You are not insured to be here, Mr non-employee, so kindly conclude your business and leave!"

"But the kids are?" Patrick challenged with a laugh.

"Yes! I run family businesses, and my family includes many under 18! Therefore I insure them!

Patrick laughed through his nose, pulling an impressed face. Taking the biro out of his mouth, he turned his attention back to Arthur.

"So, when are you coming back to the hospital?" he asked "They miss you, you know."

"Arthur, are you sick?!" Alfred shrieked.

"I'm not sick, Alfred, you know I was visiting someone. And why don't you ask Owen when I'm coming back." Arthur spat.

Patrick audibly sighed, nodding in understanding.

"Yeah, Owen told me what he said to Ivan – that wasn't on, not at all." He assured "Angus and I don't care if you're gay, as long as you're happy."

"What's 'gay'?" Alfred asked.

"When you marry someone who's the same gender you are." Matthew explained from across the table.

"When did Arthur get married?"

"Ai-ya…" Mr Wang muttered under his breath, getting up from his perch, cradling the baby extra carefully "You boys, come with me across the road, I'll give you ice cream."

"Mr Wang-" Arthur went to protest, remembering Francis' lecture the other day about junk food.

"My toppings are going stale, I need someone to eat them." He explained "Your brothers are very good as that. Come on now!"

The twins jumped up and ran after him, Alfred yelling about sprinkles and dolly mix while Matthew pulled Mr Wangs shirt, asking about syrup and sherbet. Yong Soo continued to potter about behind the bar, but Arthur couldn't help but notice he had put his mobile up on the counter, like he always did when he anticipated trouble.

"Seriously?" Patrick asked as the front door swung closed "They have no idea they have more brothers?"

"Owen offered Ivan money to leave me." Arthur countered.

"Owen's a dick." Patrick admitted "His caveman brain brings shame on us all – he's a games teacher for gods sake."

"Can't be good for him psychologically for you to deride his profession so much." Arthur quipped.

"I studied children, not inbreds."

"He's your brother."

"Yours too."

They reached an impasse. It had never occurred to Arthur to refer to Owen was 'inbred', since they were, you know, related, and truth be told it seemed a little mean – he was a dick for sure, though.

"I meant what I said." Patrick went on "I'll come pick you up, just say the word. You're that babys godfather, afterall."

"Yeah, for now." Arthur spat.

"What do you mean?"

Arthur put down the glass he had been shining, turning his full attention on Patrick.

"Let's cut the bullshit." He said "I don't have the time or – thanks to Owen – the inclination to play games with you. Just tell me what you want so we can get this game over with."

"What makes you think it's a game?" Patrick asked, sitting back in his seat.

"Because it's always something with you lot. The only thing I can say for sure is it's not money you're after, since I don't have any."

They stared each other down, each searching the others face for signs of weakness – they were brothers afterall, and more alike than certainly Arthur dared mention. Patrick was the first one to back down, sighing again.

"There's no trick, Arthur." He promised "The Gods honest truth is that we were wrong. We treated you badly – Owen was too young and too dumb to know it, but Angus and I were old enough to have known better. We're sorry. Now Angus is starting his own family… he can't imagine ever treating Peter the way we and the old man treated you. With all my studies I've seen exactly how wrong I was and what effect it must have had on you. We want to makes amends, Arthur."

"What the hell for?"

Patrick was clearly taken aback by Arthurs abrupt question, but kept his composure, even under the blonds hard stare.

"Because you're our brother. Because it's the right thing to do. Because-"

Patrick was cut short as Arthur suddenly stood.

"I have no intention of helping you clear your conscience." He said coldly "Now get out, or I'll have Berwald escort you out."

Arthur pointed to the bouncer, who was stood at the door expectantly, before turning on his heels and going into the back room. He didn't let the door slam behind him – he wanted to stay in control.

He thought he would be angry. He had wondered, once or twice, what he would say if his brothers asked him for forgiveness for their past cruelty – he always imagined he would yell at them, demand what right they had to ask anything of him, ask if they knew how much they hurt him, before storming off in righteous indignation, all smoke and fury. Instead, he was oddly calm. In the silence of the locker room, the most aggressive thing was the beating of his heart, which remained unusually steady.

After a moment, Yong Soo appeared.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Surprisingly." Arthur admitted as he opened his locker "Let's get a move on, shall we? We're opening soon."

* * *

It had been a long shift. Closing up at three in the morning, only drunks and vagabonds seemed to still be around. It was bastard cold, and Ivan had his arms wrapped around Arthur as they huddled under the awning, waiting for Berwald to finally lock the bloody door.

"Oh come ooon!" Yong Soo whined "I'm freezing my nipples off here!"

He starting rubbing his chest as if to demonstrate, causing Ivan to grimace.

"Stop that." He ordered, which Yong Soo replied to by pulling kissy-faces in his direction.

"All d'ne." Berwald growled, tired and sore after a long night at the door "L'ts go."

"Aye!" Arthur agreed.

"N'd a l'ft?" Berwald asked.

Wow, he must be tired, Arthur thought, as he never let his impediment get so bad without getting embarrassed or correcting himself. Instead, he just looked grumpy.

"That's okay." Ivan assured "You seem tired. The dorms are not far."

Berwald just nodded before stalking off into the night. Yong Soo shuddered.

"He's scary for no reason." He pointed out "That's the scariest type of scary."

"You say stupid things." Ivan growled.

"Come on lads, it's late." Arthur arbitered "Let's get on."

"Going to my girlfreinds." Yong Soo announced, dancing happily "She's the one I told you about – the one I'm going to visit Korea with."

"She must be an angel." Ivan muttered.

"Hell yeah she is!" Yong Soo confirmed, missing the subtle insult in his direction "See you losers on Saturday!"

"Just leave." Arthur quipped.

With his trademark grin, Yong Soo waved as he ran off.

"Ignorance is bliss." Ivan muttered again.

"Don't be mean, grumpy." Arthur chastised, finally starting the 15 minute walk to the dorms.

Ivan was immediately on his heels.

"I'm not grumpy." He argued.

"You are grumpy."

"I'm tired."

"And grumpy."

"The more you say that word, the less I know what it means."

Arthur laughed.

"Grumpy."

Arthur startled as Ivan suddenly picked him up, letting out a most unmanly yelp.

"Oi! What's all this?"

"I'm cold." Ivan complained, holding him tightly in the bridal style against himself.

"I'm not a scarf! And put me down before you drop me!"

"I'm more cold than tired."

"Idiot!"

As usual, the fact that it was half three in the morning was not a satisfactory reason for the students in the dorms to be in bed, with a good dozen lights on in each building – the one closest to Ivans block of flats was in full swing of a rowdy party, it would seem. Arthur groaned – all he wanted right now was to go to sleep, but with that racket there was no chance.

They both startled a little as Gilbert burst out of the dorm on the other side of the path (the one where the Masters and PhD students bunked), with little Delilah (he thought that was her name, anyway) under his arm, both half naked and furious. He marched across the path in front of them, grunting a greeting in their direction before bursting into the party dorm. After a moment, the electricity to the building cut out, and screams and moans filled the air. Gilbert reappeared, carrying a suspicious bunch of wires in his other hand, and marched back into his own dorm.

"Delilah sure is getting big." Arthur noted.

"She looks a lot like Roderich." Ivan agreed "Pretty black hair."

They both flinched as Gilbert slammed the door shut behind him.

"What's he studying, anyway?" Ivan wondered.

"Engineering, I think."

"Huh… That suits him somehow."

Finally, they got back to the flat, and Arthur couldn't kick his shoes off fast enough. Ivan seemed to feel the same, pulling off his coat and scarf as soon as the door closed. Even the air itself seemed to groan in fatigue.

"I'm going to make a sandwich before going to bed." Ivan reported "You want one?"

"No, I'm more tired than hungry. I'm just gonna go to bed."

"Ah, before you do…"

Arthur looked at Ivan as he trailed off. The larger man looked away, blushing a little, almost as if he was ashamed, twisting his fingers about in his palm.

"Have you… heard from your brothers?" he asked.

"Partick came by the club earlier." Arthur admitted, wondering for a moment if Berwald had already told him.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing of any importance. Half of it was lies and the rest was my brothers feeling sorry for themselves."

Ivan seemed a little relieved, finally looking at Arthur.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"I told him to fuck off." Arthur reported "It's too late for them to grow a conscience now. They made their bed, let them lie in it."

Arthur put his arms around Ivan – tired and harassed, he suddenly felt like he could use the comfort, and the larger man was certainly obliging.

"You know, suddenly I'm not hungry." Ivan said.

Tilting up Arthur head, Ivan kissed him, slipping in his tongue with no resistance. Arthurs hands slid up Ivans back as he returned the kiss, and Ivans large hands started to unbutton his shirt. Arthur only pulled away as Ivans slipped his hand down the back Arthur trousers.

"Ivan, I'm too tired for that." He admitted.

"We won't go all the way." Ivan compromised "I'll just make you feel good, okay?"

Arthur let out a little gasp as Ivan fingers started to work their magic, causing him to grin and nibble gently at the smaller mans ear. Instead of pulling him into the bedroom, he gently pushed him down onto the sofa, still grinning as he pulled off Arthurs trousers.

"I'll make you feel so good," he teased as he put Arthurs legs over his shoulders "You'll forget what you were even upset about."

Arthur didn't get much sleep that night – Ivan kept his promise.

* * *

"He's a grown man, Patrick, I can't make decisions for him." Francis pointed out as he ran his hands through his bright red hair.

"I'm not asked you to do that, I'm asking you to get him to talk to me!"

"Keep still, wavy hair is hard to cut. And keep your voice down in my workplace!"

Patrick grumbled – it was clear he didn't like the pink zebra stripped plastic shawl around his shoulders or the fabulous bespoke decorations of the salon. It wasn't exactly to Francis' taste either, but Feliks was the owner, and the customers seemed to like the brightness (not to mention pinkness) of the place. When he opened his own salon, he already knew it was going to be more… subtly decorated.

Francis wasn't overly happy when Patrick showed up at his work, but he was a professional (and he planned on overcharging him to boot), so cut his hair in the same manner as he would anyone who walked in for a haircut. Patrick was even more uncomfortable when Feliks started flirting with him (of course Feliks flirted with everyone, but Patrick didn't know that), whole body growing tense, hands folded tightly in his lap.

"How can a straight man work in a place like this?" Patrick asked him, eyeing Feliks as he walked away.

"Ladies love a man who's not afraid of his feminine side." Francis revealed as he measured the size of the locks in front of Patricks ears against each other "They feel more comfortable around me when they can talk about things they like."

"Even so, would you mind if we talked somewhere else? When's your lunch break?"

"I already have plans for lunch, and I'm not standing her up to chat with you."

"Ugh… alright, fine, how about you come by the hospital later?"

"What for?"

"Hasn't Arthur told you about Peter?"

"He has, but Angus and I were never exactly close. We were only brothers in name, and even then it was for less than 5 years. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against meeting Meredith and Peter, but I don't want to upset Arthur – I still live with him, don't forget."

"Is that why you didn't go to the wedding?" Patrick probed.

"Yup."

"Really? I thought you didn't go because your mother didn't want you to."

"I have very sharp scissors right next to your ear, Patrick."

"So do it, Mammas boy."

Of course he wasn't going to – his reputation would surely suffer, and really that was all a salon had when it came to setting prices (a good reputation beat a good haircut any day) – but there were some things he wasn't going to just let Patrick say.

"Not that it's any of your business, but my mother was absolutely fine with me going to Angus' wedding." Francis assured him "Not going was my decision."

Patrick definitely wanted to retort, but held his tongue.

"How did she react to you moving out?" he asked after a moment.

"We haven't really talked about it."

"Hm."

Haircut finished, Francis pulled the shawl away and dusted the red clippings from his shoulders. Patrick nearly choked when he heard how much his trim had cost him, but Feliks was completely unrepentant.

"You could always, like, pay me with your body, you know?" the blonde teased with his usual smirk, causing Patrick to go quite blue.

"Listen, even if you don't want to come, it would be good for Alfred and Matthew to meet their brothers and their nephew." Patrick said to Francis as he left "You should bring them along."

"I will discuss it with Arthur." Was all he said before shutting the glass door behind him and going to fuss over his next client.

* * *

Arthur and Francis sat in the kitchen peeling potatoes, both sat on the low stools with the peels falling in the bucket between them. The peeled and cut potatoes were thrown into the pot of water before they got to the next one.

Somehow, they had a full house. Ivan was there, of course, but for some reason so were both his sisters: Arthur and Matthew had both bought a friend home, one of which turned out to be Antonios … Cousin? Illegitimate son? Ward? Whatever he was, Romano had a potty mouth, and that Ozzy kid Matthew bought home from Scouts was far too rough and tumble with him. Antonio had come to pick Romano up and ended up hanging around. It was a safe guess that he had called Gilbert over, who had once again 'kidnapped' Delilah, so Elizavetta and Roderich had ended up coming over as well.

"You could always invite some of your friends too." Francis had offered, cackling as Arthur started to yell at him about there being enough people already, thank you very much.

It seemed to be an unwritten rule of life – or at least, life in the town of Hetalia – that is someone was in your house at dinner time, they were to be fed, regardless of how many there were, which is why the two men were leaning over a washing up bowl peeling spuds. Through the open back door, they could hear the boys running around in the garden, and the adults chatting and laughing in the living room.

"You do realise this is only going to get worse." Arthur pointed out "Because you won't be living with your mother anymore, your friends will never feel the inclination to leave."

"I'll make them help cook." Francis promised "They won't hang around. With the exception of Mr Engineering PhD, none of us are students, so we won't be partying until late."

"Your house, do what you want." Arthur muttered.

"Antonio was never much of a drinker, and now he has Romano to take care of." Francis reminded him "I have work pretty early and Lizzie's a mother now, so if you won't play with him Gilbert will get bored and go home too."

"Don't say 'play with him' like that." Arthur ordered immediately "Over a certain age it just sounds wrong."

Francis chuckled – it did sound wrong.

"And anyway, our new place is closer to Ivans sisters' house, isn't it? We'll be seeing them more too." He pointed out.

"There's no getting away from them." Arthur agreed.

"Speaking of siblings you can't get away from-"

"Nice segue, idiot."

"Patrick came by the salon today."

"I'm sure he did."

"He's kind of upset."

"I'm sure he is."

"Do you intend on forgiving them?"

"Not even slightly."

"Alright then."

Arthur looked up at Francis, surprised at his blasé acceptance at his refusal to forgive his brothers, but the taller man just kept peeling potatoes.

"You're not going to try and convince me otherwise?" he asked.

"No." Francis admitted "You're a grown man, Arthur, if you've made this decision, after everything that's happened, then I accept that."

"Oh… okay…"

"They hurt you the worst afterall. I suppose it's only natural for you to hate them."

"I don't hate them."

Francis looked up at Arthur – his green eyes were thoughtful and confused.

"I think I hated them once." He admitted "But it feels like it was a lifetime ago. Now they're like… I dunno, playground bullies or something – something that bothered me as a kid."

"Then why not forgive them?"

Arthur threw his potato into the pot, causing water to splosh onto the floor. Francis could see that even he was struggling to understand the feelings inside him.

"A couple of reasons." He thought out loud "I don't trust them, for a start, I don't want them around Alfred and Matthew – those two are so coddled, actually spending time with those three might kill them. And second to that, you can't just barge your way back into a persons life after 10 years and start making demands! What do they think they're playing at, anyway? They're the ones that decided to bugger off, I didn't go anywhere! They think they can just come and go from my life as they please?!"

Francis stayed quiet as Arthur got louder and angrier, carefully placing his knife down on the table behind him.

"And for that matter, who the fuck are they to call themselves my brothers anyway? Even when we lived in the same house, they were practically strangers to me, and now they just show up and expect me to change my life to suit them?! They can fuck off! All this shit about moving away for work and setting up schedules and Ivan – did you know they offered Ivan money to leave me?! Can you believe that?!"

"I wasn't aware of that." Francis admitted.

"They can't just come in and change things! They're just going to bugger off again when they get bored or find some other toy to play with! Forgiveness! Don't make me laugh!"

Arthur gasped and covered his mouth as he eyes started to water. Francis immediately took the knife from him. Looking over his shoulder, Francis was horrified to see Antonio and Gilbert peaking around the kitchen door, his heart falling into his stomach when he realised it had gone silent in the living room. Arthur didn't seem to have realised, luckily, and sat on the low stool holding back tears. Something seemed to click in Antonios eyes, and he pulled Gilbert back from the doorframe before strolling back into the kitchen like nothing had happened.

"Hey Francis, you got any ice-cream?" he asked innocently "With all these kids around, you need something for dessert!"

Arthur froze in place. Not quite sure what he was playing at, Francis looked up at his friend.

"Ah, I don't think so." He admitted "The boys have been having too much junk food lately."

"There's no such thing!" Gilbert announced as he sprung into the kitchen, seemingly having realised Antonios plot "But ice-cream is sucky! How about some tiramisu or cheesecake?"

"How about injecting fat straight into your chin?" Francis grimaced.

"And get me some beer too!" Gilbert ordered, kicking Arthur gently between the shoulder blades.

"What? Why me?! And for that matter, don't kick me, you git!"

"Hop to it, little brother!" Gilbert went on "If you're a good boy, I'll let you have a sip!"

"Fuck off!"

"I'll call the restaurant." Antonio offered "My Dad actually ordered too many desserts because they were on special – my Mama nearly killed him – so you'd be doing me a favour."

"Three should do it." Gilbert agreed "And also beer! Beeeerrrr!"

"Get your bloody foot off my back!"

Their plan finally clicked in Francis head, and he groaned theatrically, throwing the bag of spuds in Gilberts hands.

"Oh very well, you whiney man-children!" he declared "We'll get your damn beer and cake! In the meantime, make yourself useful and peel these! If we aren't back when you're finished then start cutting the green beans!"

"Yeah yeah, I know how to cook." Antonio reminded him, fishing his mobile out "Romano likes the chocolate cheesecake, by the way."

Francis pulled Arthur up, but the smaller man still held his head down, trying to hide his red eyes from Francis' friends.

"If the boys ask where we are, tell them we won't be long." Francis said to Gilbert "And no 'kidnapping' them down the park either! They still have to do their homework after dinner."

The two jokers started clucking – their 'hilarious' way of calling Francis a mother hen – as he pulled Arthur out of the kitchen and down the hall to the front door, not even stopping as he bid 'see you later' to his guests in the living room (of course not noticing the less than happy expression on Ivans face). He didn't let go of Arthurs hand until they were well clear of the house, throwing his arms around him and holding him the same way he did when they were younger, gently stroking his hair.

"I don't understand." Arthur admitted, voice shaky "I want them gone. I don't care about them at all. Why am I so upset?"

"Because despite everything, they're still your brothers." Francis knew "And you never stopped hoping they would change. I know because I felt the same way. When Patrick told me he wanted to fix things with you, I was so happy, but I understand… I can never forgive my father to leaving my mother. If you can never forgive your brothers, that's okay."

"It's not okay." Arthur insisted into Francis shirt "I feel like I'm the one doing something wrong. It's like I'm ten years old all over again, I hate it!"

Francis 'shush'd him, continuing to stroke his hair soothingly.

"You do what you think is right." He told him "Big brother will support you. It's okay."

It took a moment, but Arthur finally composed himself enough to gently push Francis away, and the two of them continued on to 'Carriedo's to pick up the dessert.

* * *

Ivan liked it when everyone got together and had a meal – here in the town of Hetalia, friends were like family, and he had many fond memories of garden barbecues and summer parties, 'friends and family only' invites that half the town turned up to, everyone bringing dish and a chair with them. There were less now, of course, since people had jobs and kids and obligations, so when they did get together, it felt more intimate than before.

Any formality disappeared as they bundled into the living room, sat on the floor or on the arms of chairs or stools dragged in from the kitchen, holding their plates in their laps or on trays, laughing and talking shit and barely noticing that their food had gone cold. It was like being part of a big family, and even if something bad was said, everyone laughed and things were back to normal in no time. Ivan loved getting together like that.

Tonight should have been very enjoyable for him – both his sisters were there, neither of them fighting with Arthur, and since the boys had friends over he didn't have to keep one eye on them. No one picked a fight. Everyone was happy.

No one talked about what Arthur had said – they had all heard, but… with the exception of maybe Natalya, who was at least aware of it, every adult in that room had seen what Arthurs older brothers were like first hand. He couldn't imagine that anything Arthur had said was any surprise to anyone, and he was right of course, so none of them had said anything, but…

It wasn't that that bothered him. Francis had drug the upset Arthur away, just like when they were children, before Ivan could comfort him. He had no right to do that. The one downside of having everyone over for dinner was the big-boned Ivan couldn't move about easily – he tried to get up and go the kitchen when Antonio and Gilbert did, but that prick Roderich wouldn't move his legs and the baby was crawling around the floor and Katyusha was on the other side… Francis had dragged Arthur away before Ivan could do anything. It made him furious. He didn't like Francis – he put up with him, as Arthurs 'brother'… he never forgot that they were only brothers in name, especially when…

The entire night, the stench had clung to Arthur – that cologne Francis all but bathed in, sinking into every textile and concrete itself. Arthur had sat next to Ivan, of course, so Ivan could smell that cologne on him. Don't misunderstand, he trusted Arthur, he knew he'd never cheat… it was Francis he didn't trust. Francis, who Arthur trusted, who could manipulate him easily if he wanted… just look at this fiasco with moving out! If Arthur was moving out of Jeannes, he should be moving in with Ivan, not Francis, but… if Arthur needed to make a baby step, Ivan could wait. It was no big deal to him to move in together – they practically lived together anyway – so he couldn't understand Arthurs reluctance. They were going to end up there anyway, so why put it off? It must be Francis' doing.

With a gentle thud and a sigh, Katyusha closed her book and laid it on the coffee table, snapping Ivan out of his head. It was very late, and her fatigue was obvious.

"I'm going to bed." She announced "If you're staying the night, please lock the door before you go to sleep."

"I will." Ivan promised "Sleep well."

Katyusha brushed her fingers through her brothers hair as she passed – Ivan may be close to twice her size, but she still treated him like a child. Steeling his strength, he turned to her as she left.

"Katyusha?"

"Hm?"

She stopped and turned back to him. He was suddenly nervous, afraid of her response.

"How would you feel if I… asked Arthur to marry me?" he asked her.

Katyusha sighed heavily – it was far too late at night for an in-depth conversation. She rubbed her eyes and crossed her arms, turning fully towards Ivan.

"If it's what you want." She said "But promise me that you'll try living together first."

"You still don't think we'll last." Ivan knew.

"I think you're together for the wrong reasons." She knew "But if I try to tell you, it will just push you away from me. I've decided to let you make this mistake on your own. A marriage breaking down is much harder, but if that's what it takes… I'll make you a cake for your wedding and put together your bed for your divorce."

"I'm not sure if I should say 'thank you' or 'fuck you.'"

Katyusha laughed and ran her fingers through his hair again.

"That's the essence of family." She laughed "Goodnight, Ivan."

"Goodnight."

Katyusha left, tip-toeing up the stairs as not to wake Natalya. Turning back, Ivan blew the air harshly out of his nose – he couldn't get rid of that stench.

* * *

Are Arthurs brothers sincere? Will he forgive them? Do they even deserve it? So many questions...

I had other things I wanted to put in this chapter, but it took me so long to get it out I decided to put them in the next one instead. The good thing about having shorter chapters is that I'm able to knock out ideas very quickly. Maybe I should just go back to that. Please look forward to the next chapter, which I promise will focus on Francis and his own particular hangup...


	8. Chapter 8 I Need Love Too

Why has it taken me so long to update? Several reasons. 1. I got a new computer (WINDOWS 8 SUUUUUCKS) which didn't come with word, so I had to download openoffice so I had a word processor. 2. My router seriously died, I've had internet for mere minutes at a time, so uploading much of anything has been almost impossible and 3. A terminal case of writers block. As such, I feel this chapter might not be as strong, so I thank SoraResi for beta-ing for me.

Regardless, I hope you enjoy.

* * *

**I Need Love Too.**

"Whaaa… he's so little!" Matthew marvelled.

"Why's he all red?" Alfred asked.

The twins pressed as far up to the incubator as they could without actually touching it, cooing breathlessly at little Peter within. They had never seen a premature baby before (Delilah had been 2 months old before Lizzie would let the rowdy little boys close to her), so they were absolutely awe-struck at his tininess and frailness.

"His nappy's huge." Alfred noted.

"Look at his nails!" Matthew pointed out.

"Oh yeah!"

Meredith laughed. Angus wrapped the blanket further around her shoulders, leaving his hands reassuringly upon them as he stood behind her chair, letting Francis take the low stool at her side. Patrick loitered at the side of the room, chewing his knackered biro to pieces, clearly upset that Francis had arrived without Arthur.

"Auntie Meredith, how old is he?" Matthew asked, turning to the petite woman.

"He's 10 days old." She told him with a smile.

"And it's not 'auntie.'" Angus corrected gently "Meredith is your sister-in-law."

His wife tapped his hand.

"They're only nine." She pointed out "You'll confuse them. 'Auntie' is fine for now."

Angus let it drop, kissing Meredith on top of her head.

"Thank you for bringing them." She said to Francis, who shook his head.

"Not at all – I wanted to see you and Peter myself: women and babies are two of my favourite things!"

Angus grimaced slightly, but Meredith just laughed.

"They told me you were a charmer." She admitted "I see they were right. Was it a long drive?"

"Not too long. Although 2 hours of playing 'I Spy' with the boys made it seem a lot longer than it was."

Meredith smiled. Francis could tell that, even though it had been nearly two weeks since her operation, she was still struggling. Francis had only ever had his appendix removed, so he couldn't imagine the bodyshock of having a major organ rupture and be ripped out. Truth be told, having finally met the petite Meredith for the first time, Francis was concerned that brutish Angus wasn't up to the task of caring for such an angel, but his fears were soon dispelled – he touched and spoke to her with a gentility Francis had previously thought impossible for him. The thug Francis remembered seemed to be just that – a memory.

"We really appreciate you bringing them." Angus told him "Peter's met all his uncles now, so he knows there's all these people who want him to live. I'm sure it will help him find the strength to keep going."

"I'm sure you're right." Francis agreed.

"Why didn't Arthur come with you?" Meredith asked, keeping her little hand on top of her husbands large paw.

"That's…"

Francis couldn't finish. As angry and betrayed as Arthur felt, Francis knew he wouldn't say anything to hurt this little mother and her fragile babe, so he couldn't bring himself to tell the truth. Patrick 'tsk'd loudly at the side of the room, throwing his biro in the rubbish. Angus glared at him.

"Don't you dare." He warned.

"Why shouldn't I?" he spat, heading to the door as he fished a packet of cigarettes from his pocket.

"Oh Patrick, don't!" Meredith cried "You've worked so hard!"

"That's right!" Angus agreed "You want your nephews first memory of you to be the stench of cigarettes?"

Patrick grumbled again, turning back to them.

"I had it all figured out!" he proclaimed "I had a plan, a schedule! Then Owen had to go opening his mouth and fuck it all up!"

"Patrick…"

"I'm a child psychologist, I don't know shit about dealing with sexuality or that shit! I don't know how to fix this anymore! Why didn't Owen just keep his Neanderthal mouth shut?!"

"Maybe that's where you went wrong." Meredith suggested "You were applying your child psychology to Arthur, but he's not the little kid you remember him as."

"Maybe not physically," Patrick contended "But his emotional development is arrested at the pre-adolescent stage! He shouldn't even_ be_ in a relationship, never mind with whatever gender!"

"And treating him like a child is going to make him grow up?" Angus agreed with Meredith "I treated him like an adult when I saw him – he seemed to react to that."

"You treated him like he was your only hope in the world to save Peter." Patrick corrected "He felt sorry for you – he only agreed to be his godfather to reassure you, he never had any intention of going through with it!"

"In Arthurs defence." Francis interrupted "He has no reason to believe that anything you say is sincere – you've been liars and backstabbers his whole life, so why-"

"I'm not saying Arthur's the one who's wrong!" Patrick insisted "I know I was wrong, I know Owen was wrong, I know Angus was wrong, and Arthur had every reason not to trust us, but…!" he sighed to himself, running his hand though his hair in an attempt to calm himself "This was our chance to make amends, to fix things. Things were going well… why did Owen have to open his mouth? I don't want to lose Arthur again…"

Patrick slumped down on the floor, back against the wall, putting his face in his hands. The adults were speechless at his unashamed display of emotion, especially as his usual persona was so tightly managed. Francis was completely taken aback: who were these people? Thug Angus, deceitful Patrick… were these really the same people? To everyone surprise, it was Matthew that broke the tense silence, gently pushing his fluffy white teddy into Patricks hands.

"Don't cry." He urged "Arthur won't go away."

Patrick lowered his hands – he wasn't crying, but he wasn't far off either. He smiled weakly at Matthew, ever the professional.

"Why's that?" he asked, stroking the white bears stomach with his long fingers.

"Because Francis said so." Matthew admitted "Arthur's not like Dad – he's not going to disappear. He doesn't stay mad forever – if you say sorry, I know he'll forgive you."

Patrick shook his head, still smiling weakly.

"I did something very bad." He admitted "He won't forgive me."

"He will!" Alfred agreed, backing up his brother "No matter how much trouble I get in, Arthur always forgives me – if you say sorry and mean it, he'll definitely forgive you! Although you may be grounded for a while first."

Patrick laughed through his nose. Grabbing the boys by the hands, he pulled them into his lap, ruffling their fluffy blonde hair.

"You're god boys." He said "Big brother is proud of you."

* * *

As Angus took the boys to the cafeteria to get ice-cream, Francis accompanied Patrick to the gift shop, where he tore open a packet of nicotine gum the second he handed over his money.

"Fucking overpriced shite." He muttered to himself as he shoved a few sticks into his mouth "Smoking was cheaper."

"Doing neither is cheaper still." Francis reminded him, but he just huffed.

They stood in silence for a while, leant against the wall at the entrance, watching the people come and go as Patrick got his fix.

"Aren't you a smoker?" he asked.

"On occasion." Francis admitted "One or two a day, perhaps. I'm not a stress smoker like you."

Patrick growled in agreement.

"My kids were complaining that I smelled bad." He told Francis "They're pretty honest – they don't want to talk to a doctor who smells."

"Ever think of having any of your own?"

"Of course, but…" Patrick sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring at the ground "I'm not like Angus – I don't have the courage to become a father yet. How can I be a good father when I failed so badly as a brother? The only reason Arthur didn't go completely off the deep end is because of you."

"That's not true."

"This is no time to be modest, you shit." Patrick grumbled "You know that's true. You made it your purpose to be a good brother and a role model when all I cared about was myself. I spent so long telling myself that treating Arthur that way was good for him that I blinded myself to the truth. Even now I'm trying to be a better brother to Arthur, I'm still neglecting Alfred and Matthew to the point that they didn't even know we were brothers!"

Patrick ran his hands through his hair again. It was strange seeing him worked up.

"How do I fix this?" he asked Francis "You know Arthur better than anyone."

Francis considered a moment. His heart told him to reveal all to Patrick, to tell him exactly how to appeal to Arthur, but he couldn't let go of the voice in the back of his head, the one that couldn't let go of Patrick as a manipulator, a twister of truths. His allegiance was, first and foremost, to Arthur, and he wasn't going to let a decade of love and care – not to mention hard work – go to waste because Patrick was up to something. But, try as he might, he couldn't see the angle: Arthur had no money, he wasn't in line to inherit anything, his brothers didn't seem to be into anything untoward that they could drag Arthur into… if he wasn't honestly trying to fix things with Arthur, Francis couldn't figure out what he wanted.

Francis sighed, rubbing the stubble on his chin.

"I think the boys are right." He begrudgingly admitted "What Owen did set you back a fair bit, but… Arthur's not the type to hold a grudge forever. If you approach him earnestly, as an adult, I think he might forgive you. Eventually. But I'm not promising anything."

Patrick laughed through his nose. He clearly wanted to say something, looking at Francis with eyes that held secrets, but held his tongue.

"If you think so." Was all he said "Going to his work didn't help. How do think I should approach him?"

"What am I, psychic?" Francis retorted, annoyed that Patrick wasn't saying what was really on his mind "You've got a good angle here with Peter – Arthur is surprisingly fond of children – try using it to your advantage without outright lying to him."

They were interrupted as the twins bounded down the hall, followed by Angus. It was getting on, and they had a long drive ahead, so he said his goodbyes and bundled them into the car. Francis wasn't going to make the same mistake as those three – as soon as he got home, he was going to tell Arthur what he and his brothers had talked about. His honesty was all he had to keep Arthurs trust.

* * *

"You did what?!"

Arthur wasn't home – of course meaning he was at Ivans – but Jeanne was home, and was pretty surprised to find the house empty when she returned, especially as it was getting pretty late. The twins had fallen asleep in the car shortly after eating their drive-thru, so Francis carried them both to bed before explaining to his mother where the three of them had been (his mother wasn't a big woman, and the twins were getting heavy, so he didn't ask her for help). She wasn't best pleased.

"I don't see the problem." Francis admitted as he sipped his decaf.

"Oh, you don't?" his mother spat, slamming her hands on the kitchen table "Did you even stop for a moment to think about how it would make me feel?!"

"Mother-"

"You don't keep in touch with any of my other ex-husbands, why is this any different? You honestly thought I'd be okay with this?!"

"I'm not in touch with your ex-husband!" Francis pointed out "They're Arthurs brothers – Alfred and Matthews too, don't forget!"

"Don't you take that tone with me, Francis! Arthur's had nothing to do with those savages in nearly a decade, and they're no brothers of my boys! We didn't need them then and we don't need them now! I knew the boys had been playing up lately, being disobedient, and now I know why!"

"Mother, that's unfair."

"Those savages are bad influences!"

"The boys have met their brothers all of three times, mother!"

"They only have two brothers – you and Arthur! If they really need more, they've got Ivan and your idiot friends."

"My 'idiot friends'? Well, thanks a lot, tell me how to you really feel!"

"Stop trying to make this about you, Francis!" Jeanne bellowed at him, completely incredulous "I can't believe how selfish you've been lately!"

"How am I selfish?" he countered "Everything I do is for the sake of someone else!"

"All you ever think about is yourself!" she argued "Did you even give one thought to how your moving out was going to affect me? Do you have any idea how hard it's going to be for me to take care of those kids on my own, while you're swanning off with women and doing whatever or whoever you please!"

"I'm moving down the road, not across the other side of the planet! The boys will have their own room at my place and everything!"

"Until you get bored of having responsibilities and decide you're sick of being a big brother! Then it'll be one excuse after another, looking for any reason to get away from them! 'My car won't start, I'm painting the house, my girlfriend is over...' I swear, Francis, you're just like your father!"

Something tore in Francis. Something he didn't even know was there. Without another word, he stormed out, grabbing his wallet and keys, slamming the door behind him with such force that it caused the windows to shake. It was late, and cold as fuck, but whatever it was that tore within him started to bleed, spreading heat and pain across his entire body.

He pounded the pavement, suddenly aware he was only in his slippers, but he couldn't stop moving. If he stopped moving, something terrible would happen. He wanted to run. As the tears forced themselves from his eyes, he wanted to run, his chest heaving painfully.

How could she say something like that?! That was... the single most hurtful thing she had ever said! How could she?! Selfish?! He was putting his life on hold for her, to make her life easier! What about everything he wanted to do, while she was off 'working' until 10 at night and swanning off for the weekend with no notice?! What if he wanted to go away?! How was he the selfish one?!

"Francis?"

He stopped as he heard his name. He had been in such a flurry, he hadn't noticed he was fast approaching Gilbert, squirming Delilah in his arms. He was going to march on, keep going until he couldn't physically walk anymore, but the look on Gilberts face told him that wasn't going to happen. Gilbert grabbed his hand – he was stronger than he looked – and pulled him down the road, forcing him to slow down, until they reached his grandfathers house.

"Gramps, it's me!" he called as soon as he opened the door "I'm staying here tonight!"

"Take out the trash." was the only reply.

Old Police Chief Beilschmidt appeared in the foyer, startling a little at the sight of Francis, taking special note of his filthy slippers.

"You mind if I take care of it tomorrow?" Gilbert asked.

Grandpa continued to look at Francis. He sighed.

"I'll do it." he compromised "But if the baby fusses, it's up to you."

"Sure, thanks."

Taking Francis' hand again, he pulled him up the stairs and into his room, telling a curious Ludwig not to interrupt them. He put Delilah in her travel cot and turned her music box on as Francis sat on his bed, staring at the floor.

His heart hurt. All that energy he had had minutes ago had disappeared, and in its place was something hollow. His hands were shaky, his mouth and throat dry and empty. Gilbert, satisfied Delilah was happy enough in her cot, pulled his office chair up in front of Francis.

"What happened?" he asked "You look like you've been told you have cancer!... You haven't, have you? 'Cos that would be the worst thing to say ever."

Despite himself, Francis chuckled. Gilbert had his serious face on, watching his face expectantly. Francis couldn't find the words – if he opened his mouth, something entirely hurtful would come spilling out. He felt his eyes grow painful and start to sting again, the bleeding within him welling up again. Gilberts face broke, and he put his arms around Francis as he started to cry.

* * *

"You're not the one who's wrong." Gilbert assured "This whole situation's messed up."

Francis sipped at his water. It helped his sore throat, even if only a little, and he had cried all the water from his body, so needed to rehydrate. In his other hand, he hugged a pillow to himself, its softness surprisingly reassuring.

"You are in no way selfish." Antonio agreed, trying not to pick at the churros he had brought with him "You're vain, prissy, need a haircut and use way too much cologne, but you're not selfish."

"I'm not sure that helps, Toni." Elizavetta criticised before turning to Francis "But I honestly can't believe your mother said that. That's too far."

The four grownups sat on the floor, much more cramped then when they had gathered here as youths, with Delilahs cot taking up one corner of the room and Romano asleep on Gilberts bed. As teenagers they might have snuck some beer from downstairs, but as more than half of them were in charge of children, it didn't seem appropriate. Truth be told, Francis didn't want to drink – he just wanted more water. Lizzie and Antonio picked at the churros, Gilbert perching closest to the window.

"I hate that Patrick was right." Francis admitted, keeping quiet as not to wake the children "How has my life been so messed up that Patrick is on my side and my mother isn't?"

"Well-"

"Lizzie!" Gilbert hissed.

"I didn't bring it up!" she defended "He did!"

"Bring what up?" Francis looked between the two of them, catching their conspiratorial glances.

Gilbert looked sternly at Lizzie a moment, but finally sighed and looked away, washing his hands of any involvement.

"What?"

"She doesn't like your mother." Antonio said bluntly.

"It's not like that!" Lizzie hissed at him before looking apologetically at Francis "It's not that I dislike her, it's just... I don't like how she treats you! I mean... just look at us! I'm married with a child, Gilbert's studying his PhD, Antonio _owns_ his families restaurant now... what are you doing? You've never lived alone, never had a serious relationship, your career's going nowhere!"

"Lizzie, that's enough." Gilbert urged.

"And you're doing it all for her sake." Lizzie went on, albeit more calmly "Jeanne's great, she really is, she's fun and nice and all that, but I didn't realise until I became a mother myself... you may not want to hear this, but she's not that hot a mother."

"Lizzie..." Gilbert exasperated.

"She's never been able to keep a marriage together, and I never thought it was her fault, but looking at her as an adult... she takes no responsibility for anything, just does what she pleases and leaves the hard stuff to everyone else."

"Yeah, taking care of kids is hard." Antonio agreed "Playing with your boys is fun, but I didn't realise how much hard work kids were until Romano came along. It's like I have no time anymore... you gotta get them up; make breakfast; get them to eat breakfast; clean up breakfast; get them dressed; brush their teeth; get them to school; make sure they've got their homework; walk them there; pick them up; help them do their homework when they get home; cook them dinner; clean up dinner; bathe them; get them ready for bed; read them a story; and it's like 'I also gotta work in between doing all this!' I can't imagine Jeanne doing all that."

"As attentive a father as Roderich is, I'd be stuck without Gilbert taking Delilah every now and then, so I can't criticise her for getting help where she can, but there's a limit." Lizzie went on "Roddy and Gilbert aren't putting their lives on hold so I can pursue my career, and I'd never ask them to."

"Be fair, you two." Gilbert urged again "She raised Francis alone, you know."

"Did she, though?" Lizzie postured "Before Jeanne married Arthurs dad, Francis was barely ever home – he was always hanging out with us, so had Dad or Grandpa or Tonis parents watching him, and when the twins came Francis was old enough to take care of them for her."

"I get what you're trying to say." Francis interrupted "And I'm happy you're on my side, but hearing you badmouth my mother isn't making me feel better."

"I'm sorry, Francis." Lizzie atoned "I guess I've been keeping that inside too long. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"As I say." Francis sighed "I love that you're on my side."

"You know-" Antonio began.

He was abruptly cut off by a pillow smacking him square in the face.

"Shut up, you bastards!" a very tired and grumpy Romano yelled at the group "It's like three in the morning! Go to sleep, eh?!"

Antonio just laughed. He pulled off his jeans so he was just in his t-shirt and pants and climbed onto the bed with the boy, wrapping his arms around the very, very grumpy Romano.

"Don't be so moody, little man." he cooed "Let's you and I go to sleep together, okay?"

"How can anyone sleep with you making all that noise?!" Romano demanded, although he did snuggle his face into Antonios t-shirt.

"It's late." Lizzie agreed with a sigh "We've all got work tomorrow."

"Ma's room is all made up." Gilbert told her, since it had been many years since it was appropriate for her to sleep in the same room as the three boys.

She nodded, grabbing the baby monitor as she shuffled almost silently to her feet. Gilbert followed her, presumably to fetch the blow up mattress, leaving Francis alone.

"I don't want to sleep in the same room as the blonde weirdo." he heard Romano mutter "He smells funny and I bet he snores."

"You'll be asleep long before him, so you won't even notice." Antonio promised quietly "Close your eyes, okay?"

Not wanted to stay where he wasn't welcome, Francis clamboured to his feet and followed Gilbert. He found him downstairs, pulling the guest linen out of the cupboard under the stairs.

"Romano doesn't like me." he joked with him "Apparently I smell funny."

"You do." Gilbert agreed "Like lilies and ambergris. You mind if we set you up down here?"

"No, that's fine." Francis agreed "Need a hand?"

"If you don't mind."

"Where will you sleep?"

"I'll bunk with Ludwig. He doesn't sleep well when he have guests anyway, so it's not like I'll wake him."

To save them both the time and energy of blowing up the air mattress, they set Francis up on the sofa. Before going up to bother his long-suffering brother, Gilbert turned to Francis.

"We didn't get to talk as much as I wanted." he admitted "But I guess it can't be helped with the kids around. I just wanted you to know... You're not wrong. You gotta do something for yourself... And even if you are wrong, we'll still be there for you. You've always been there for everyone else, so..."

"You can stop now." Francis said with a laugh "Before your head explodes from embarrassment."

Sure enough, Gilberts entire head had gone scarlet, but he still wore his serious face.

"I mean it." he ended somberly "I owe you more than you think."

With that, he headed back up the stairs. Francis had spent half his life in this house, so wasn't at all uncomfortable at being left to his own, but as his friend disappeared up the stairs he felt somewhat... empty. The silence all around him became cold and harrowing, and for the first time he realised... how long had it been since he had spent a night without the boys? Knowing that the twins weren't just down the hall... somehow that was an incredibly lonely feeling. He suddenly wanted his boys. He didn't want to be alone...

He pulled out his phone, sitting down on the bed and hitting 1 on the speedial.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" was the response on the fourth ring "IT'S THREE IN THE FUCKING MORNING! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!"

"I had a bad day." he said honestly "Can you spare some time for big brother?"

Arthur grumbled on the other end. Francis heard Ivan mutter and that other boy – what's his name? Mr Wangs brother? - cackling and running his mouth.

"I'm super tired, Francis." Arthur sighed "Can we talk when I get home?"

"I'm not at home."

There was silence on the other end.

"What happened?" he asked finally.

Up the stairs, Delilah started to wail. Romano started to yell incoherently as Gilbert dashed from Ludwigs room.

* * *

So the next few chapter are focusing of Francis point of view. One or two reviewers have noted that Francis seems to have issues of his own... yeah... you'll see...

All reviews welcome!


	9. Chapter 9 Jamie

I love Sunday. Although the last chapter took me a while to get out, this one came faster, despite the fact it was kind of hard to write. Those who persevere to the end will understand why.

* * *

**Jamie.**

"Red or blue, red or blue, pick one, pick one!" Francis sung, laughing as the boys continued to bicker.

"Red!" Matthew insisted.

"Blue!" Alfred demanded.

"Our room at home is blue!" Matthew reminded him "You got your way then, too! It's my turn!"

"Blue is just better!" his brother practically yelled at him "I can't sleep in a room with red walls! It's like something out of a horror movie!"

"So stop watching horror movies!"

"How about we mix them and paint the room purple?" Francis suggested.

"That's a girls colour!" both boys said at once before resuming their argument.

Francis chuckled to himself. He looked up to ask Arthur what he thought, only to find him sleeping, propped up on the old wooden chair at the doorway. How he could sleep when the boys were being so noisy...

"Two walls blue, two walls red!" Gilbert proclaimed as he appeared next to the sleeping Arthur "That'll be awesome!"

"Gilbert, what on earth happened?" Francis asked as he surveyed the right royal mess his friend was in.

"What? You asked me to paint." Gilbert pointed out.

"Paint the wall, not yourself." Francis elaborated as the twins started to laugh "Is there any paint even on the wall, or is all of it in your hair?"

"It's about 50/50." Gilbert smirked "You don't think green hair suits me?"

"Me too, me too!" Alfred insisted, but Francis grabbed him before he could tip a bucket of pain over his head.

"You'll have to be in the bath for eleven hundred hours to get it out!" he warned, which immediately stopped the bath-hating boy in his tracks "That's why Gilberts hair is white, you know! It used to be the same colour as Antonios, then he tipped a whole bucket of pink paint over his head, and spend so long in the bath that his hair turned permanently white!"

"That doesn't sound scientifically plausible." Alfred mumbled.

"I swear it's true!" Gilbert played along "Come and take a look in my ears, you'll see some of the paint is still there!"

"Eew, gross!" Matthew laughed.

"Hello!" Antonio called from downstairs "It's feeding time, amigos! Get your little butts down here!"

"PIZZA PIZZA PIZZA PIZZA PIZZA!" Alfred yelled at the top of his lungs as he bolted from the room.

"Don't run on the stairs!" Francis yelled after him.

"Matty, you coming, little man?" Antonio called again when he didn't immediately follow his brother.

Matthew seemed more reluctant, standing by the Arthur and tugging the sleeping mans sleeves.

"Can't I stay here with you?" he asked, adorable little pout on his chubby cheeks "I'm having fun..."

"Matty, let's goooooo!" his brother called "Pizza!"

"Move your butt, curly haired bastard!" Romano concurred.

"We're just going to be painting." Francis assured him "It's gonna be really boring. You'll have much more fun with your brother and Romano."

"I want to help paint." Matthew said quietly, still tugging at Arthurs sleeve.

Francis sighed. This was Matthews version of being difficult – getting quiet and pouty to his brothers loud and demanding.

"We won't eat until really late." Francis told him.

"That's okay." he insisted.

"Matthew's staying here, Toni!" Gilbert called down the stairs "See you guys back here about 8.30!"

"Okay!" Antonio called back "Let's go, boys."

"I'm gonna eat all your pizza!" Alfred warned "All of it!"

"Help yourself!" Matthew called back.

"Gilbert-" Francis started.

"Relax, Franny." the albino argued "We'll just keep the beer in the fridge for another time. If I recall correctly, our boy's pretty good with a brush."

"I'll be super good! The best ever!" Matthew promised.

"See?" Gilbert agreed "Come with me, kid, we'll finish that monkey-face Arties room before we start in here."

Before leaving, Gilbert hooked his foot around the back leg of Arthurs chair and kicked, sending the chair flying and Arthur crashing to the floor.

"Son of a donkey raping arse biscuit!" Arthur swore as he awoke, coughing and spluttering on the floor.

Gilbert cackled, covering Matthews ears as he lead him into what would soon be Arthurs room. Arthur continued to mutter profanities as he got to his feet, brushing himself off.

"Sleepy, are we?" Francis teased "Ivan keeping you up at night?"

He let out a pervy laugh, but Arthur just glared at him. Of course Francis knew why he was really tired – despite the fact exams were coming up, Mr Wang was being completely unreasonable, signing both Arthur and Ivan up for long shifts most nights. Ivan was no longer on the door, but was working under his sister and a couple of Mr Wangs other managers, learning about the day-to-day running before graduating next year. Arthur was still serving drinks, and just lately Mr Wang had changed the uniform so it was... how to put it politely... tighter? Needless to say, Arthur was getting his arse pinched more than usual, and every time he punched a customer in the face, Arthur had to report to Mr Wang personally for a reprimand.

Francis was a little grateful that Mr Wang had known Arthur since he was little, since he was more lenient with him than a traditional employer – last time Arthur had struck a customer, Mr Wang made him clean his car and paint his fence instead of firing him.

"Oh, cheer up, Grumpy." Francis teased "One more month and you'll be on holiday."

Arthur grumbled again, rubbing the back of his neck as he stretched.

"Not if Mr Wang has his way – he wants me to work at the new café he opened on the river during the day."

"And work at the Chinnaty club at night? I don't think so!" Francis protested "That's completely unreasonable!"

"Yeah, but what choice do I have?" Arthur agreed "Students can't get work in this town at all if they don't work for Mr Wang, and I've still got a year until I graduate."

"He's not the only employer in town." Francis reminded him "I'm sure Antonio will give you a job. Besides, you don't have many expenses – what are you spending all this money on? You must have a small fortune stashed away!"

Arthur just grumbled again. Without another word, he grabbed the roller.

"What colour did they settle on?" he asked.

* * *

"Tran-tran-tra-la!" Jeanne sung, gesturing to the large white board behind her "Revealing – the Bonnifoy family schedule!"

Her four sons, gathered in the kitchen with her, observed the object – in permanent marker had been drawn the days of the week along the top, and along the side she had written the hours: midnight to 7am, up in intervals of two hours until 9pm (the boys bedtime), at which point it rounded back up to midnight.

"Mummy's in pink!" she declared, holding up a marker pen in the announced colour "Francis is yellow, Arthur is green, Alfred is blue and Matthew is red. Every Sunday after dinner we're going to write our schedule for the week, so we're going to know where everybody is all the time and whose turn it is to do what. Okay, boys?"

"I wanna write my football practice on!" Alfred declared immediately, grabbing the blue pen and pulling a chair up the board.

Matthew grabbed the red pen and did the same, making a note of when he was at scouts and who was going to pick him up afterwards. Jeanne laughed happily and ruffled both the boys hair before marking on her work hours.

"Not a bad idea." Francis said to Arthur, hanging back to let the boys finish before writing on his own work schedule.

"Is it really necessary?" Arthur wondered "There aren't that many of us – we never had trouble knowing who was where before."

"You boys lived here before." Jeanne reminded him "You'll be moving out soon, won't you? This way, Mummy will still know where you are, even if she doesn't see you every day, and the boys will always know where their big brothers are."

"We'll put one up in our kitchen too." Francis offered, which seemed to make Jeanne pretty happy "So the boys can keep their schedule when they stay over."

"Mum, have you seen our room at Francis and Arthurs?" Alfred asked her excitedly "It's red and blue! It's really awesome!"

"Not yet. I'll see it on moving in day."

"We're gonna get a bunk-bed." Matthew told her "And we're gonna have a curtain on the bottom bunk so I can close it up like a cocoon."

"That sounds wonderful, sweetheart." Jeanne agreed, giving him an Eskimo kiss "I can't wait to see it."

"I get the top bunk because I'm the oldest!" Alfred announced, pulling on her arm to get her attention.

"That sounds like fun!" Jeanne humoured, giving him a kiss as well.

Their mother stepped back, gesturing Arthur forward to fill in his lecture schedule, and stood in front of Francis. She fiddled with the marker in her hands.

"I haven't really had the chance to talk to you properly since our fight." she said, quiet enough that the three boys couldn't hear her "I wanted to say sorry. What I said was too much. Will you forgive your mother for being so thoughtless?"

Although the damage had been done, Francis was still happy to hear her admit she had been the one in the wrong. Not wanting the two of them to be on bad terms, he smiled and nodded. His mother grinned openly and wrapped her arms around him. Her returned her hug, but he doubted she was going to change her ways.

"Hey, don't draw over me!" Matthew yelled at Alfred, who just cackled as he scribbled over his brothers schedule.

"Oi, behave yourselves!" Arthur scolded, pulling both boys away from the board.

Francis couldn't help himself – taking up his marker, he leapt forward, pinning Arthur (and consequently the boys as well) against the board and scribbling all over his green pen.

"Oi! You bastard!"

With that, any semblance of an actual schedule on the board disappeared, replaced by a mess of random doodles as the brothers drew and re-drew over each other, the twins falling into fits of giggles as the older two knocked and jostled each other roughly. Jeanne just smiled as she watched them, getting the cloth to wipe the board off and start again.

* * *

Mr Wang was clearly furious, stood with his hands on his hips and a face like he was sucking on a bee. Francis wasn't quite sure what to feel – on the one hand, he was super happy there was nothing wrong with Arthur, but on the other, he wasn't exactly happy at the drunk, staggering mess that Mr Wang was called him to fetch. Berwald held Patrick on his feet as best he could, but it was clear the doctor had had one... or two... or several too many, muttering to himself and slurring unintelligibly.

"What makes you think I want him?" Francis asked.

"He hasn't broken the law, so I can't call the police." Mr Wang pointed out "I would be perfectly happy to leave him for the bin men to collect in the morning, but Arthur might run into him when he comes to work. You're the only person in town I know who knows this bum other than him, so he's your problem."

With a nod from Mr Wang, Berwald threw Patrick into Francis arms, turning on his heels and marching straight back into the club. As the door slammed behind him, Berwald sighed, shoulders drooping a little as he relaxed.

"Sorry, Franc's." he mumbled.

"Family, eh?" Francis laughed.

"Yeah... had Mathi's in t'e same state not long ago." Berwald agreed "Left h'm on a park bench."

Francis laughed – the three of them had gone to school together, so he could well imagine both Mathias and Berwald acting like that.

"Your voice seems clearer." Francis complimented "You taking speech therapy?"

Their catching up was cut short as Patrick threw up on Francis shoes. Berwald let them go without a fight, leaving Francis to throw Patrick in the back of his car. He had no idea where the red-head lived, but he really didn't want to take him home. He'd have to take him back his new place, even though they hadn't finished decorating and hadn't furnished it yet... as Patrick threw up once again, Francis thought that was probably for the best.

Ten minutes later, he hauled his drunk arse out of his car, swearing he was going to make him clean his puke out before he left in the morning.

"Uuugh... where am I?" Patrick slurred "Smell perfume... did I pull?"

"I guarantee that you didn't." Francis told him.

"Francis?" Patrick perked up a little, hoisting himself up as best he could to look around "Where's Arthur?"

"At Ivans."

"Ugh." he slumped down again "S'that why he wasn't at work?"

"It's exam season." Francis explained "Half the town shuts down in exam season."

"Oh yeah..." he seemed to recall "Ha ha... the purge... good times..."

"How are you so heavy when there's so little to you?" Francis criticised.

"I never thought you'd be bigger than me." Patrick admitted "The fuck did you do that?! Was it drugs?! IT WAS DRUGS, WASN'T IT?!"

"Shut up, you drunkard!"

Francis struggled to get his keys from his pocket without dropping Patrick, who drooped dramatically with only his arm around Francis shoulders, held in place by Francis other hand as he fished for his keys.

"You got puke on your shoe." he pointed out.

"It's yours, you bastard."

"That sucks."

"I'm going to kill you tomorrow."

"Bury me under a bridge."

"Idiot."

Francis finally got the door open, but in Patricks drunken state he caught his foot on the door frame and landed spectacularly on the floor.

"Owen at least lets me sleep on the sofa." he grumbled, immune to pain as all drunk people are.

Francis wasn't going to pick him up again, instead kicking him lightly on the buttocks.

"Get out of the doorway, pisshead. There are some sheets in the living room."

Patrick crawled away. Had Francis been drunk, he was sure that would be hilarious, or else make perfect sense, but since he was stone cold sober, and pretty pissed off at that, it was just pathetic. With a weary sigh, he followed him into the house.

"I thought you had more furniture." Patrick grumbled.

"I haven't bought any yet."

"... the fuck am I?"

"My house."

"You bought a house? Rich bastard. I live in a flat. ARE FLATS TOO GOOD FOR YOU, RICH BOY?! UUUgh, yelling isn't good. Doctor's not yelling, noooo he's not."

Francis sighed again – all he had in the fridge was beer and his expensive bottled water (which he had because he promised his friends a drink for helping him decorate), neither of which he was going to waste on this drunk. Since he had no glasses yet, he couldn't even force some tap water down his throat. He really, really didn't want to leave a drunk alone in his house, but he didn't want to stay either. He found some rags that didn't have too much paint on them and set up a kind of nest before dragging Patrick into it.

"Sleep it off." he ordered "And don't you dare pull this shit when me and Arthur move in here, or I'll do a Berwald and leave you on a park bench."

"You think this is a habit?!" Patrick squealed incredulously.

"Let's just say this isn't the first time I've seen you bladdered."

"I work with kids! Damaged kids! I need my wits about me at all times! I don't drink at all during the week!"

"It's Wednesday." Francis pointed out.

"If that poncy club doesn't serve anything non-alcoholic, what choice do I have?! Was I supposed to wait in the car like a stalker?! How creepy is that?!"

Francis groaned.

"About as creepy as hanging out at his work when you didn't even know if he would be there or not. How long were you there, anyway?"

"How many margaritas are there in an hour?"

Francis went to stand up, but Patrick grabbed him and pulled him down into a very risqué position, arms firmly around the back of his neck, pissing him off further.

"Why wasn't Arthur at work?" he asked.

"I told you!" Francis barked at him "It's exam season, now let go of me!"

Patricks eyes started to tear up, but his hands stayed firmly in place.

"I'm sorry." he whined "I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I'm sorry!"

God, there was no reasoning with drunks. Francis at least was stronger (he assumed, since he was broader than skin-and-bones Patrick), so went to pry Patricks hands away as the inebriated man started to cry.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he wailed "I'm sorry, Arthur! I'm sorry! Please don't die!"

Francis stopped. The fuck? He looked back at Patrick beneath him, who openly sobbed and spluttered, face a complete mess as he struggled to catch his breath.

"What did you say?" Francis asked.

"I'm sorry." he sobbed quieter "I'm sorry."

"After that!" Francis demanded "What did you just say?!"

Patrick looked confused a moment, although the tears continued to flow.

"You said something about him dying." Francis pointed out "What were you on about?"

"I said..." he teared up again as he recalled "Arthur... I'm sorry..." he shook his head "He's not Arthur. He's Jamie."

"Who's Jamie?"

"The one who died. He was my patient. He killed himself. He-he-he was nine years old! HE WAS NINE YEARS OLD!"

Patrick broke down entirely, letting out a high-pitched squeal as he threw his arms around Francis' neck completely and cried with a passion worthy of a man.

"HE WAS NINE YEARS OLD! HE WAS NINE YEARS OLD!" he repeated "I COULDN'T HELP HIM! HE DIED BECAUSE I DIDN'T UNDERSTAND! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY!"

Without thinking, Francis wrapped his arms around him, holding him as he continued to scream.

"All I saw when I looked at him was Arthur!" he went on "It was exactly the same! He _was_ Arthur! That's why I didn't understand! He killed himself because he was all alone, and I couldn't help him! Arthur... Arthur, don't die! I'm sorry! I love you! Don't die! Don't die!"

He dissolved into incoherence, leaving Francis speechless. Patricks sudden desire to make amends with Arthur was starting to make sense. Patrick was shaking uncontrollably, and Francis' shirt was starting to get wet from his tears. There was no reasoning with drunk people, so he stayed quiet, rubbing his back reassuringly until he fell asleep.

* * *

Francis didn't sleep that night, but lay on the hardwood floor staring at the ceiling, Patrick snoring, wrapped up in the paint covered sheets, beside him. That was one hell of a bomb to drop, drunk or not. Francis couldn't imagine it – a suicidal child? Such things didn't exist in his world, but... he supposed that was the point of child psychologists like Patrick – to help those kids. He couldn't picture it... his boys were so full of life. Even Matthew, although he was quiet, was so alive, and playful, and difficult and... childish. Did his boys even have a concept of what death really meant? It was true that those two were completely different to how Arthur had been at their age, and completely different again to how Francis had been... had Arthur ever thought about killing himself? Things had been bad back then, but... he couldn't picture it. Arthur with his quick tongue and eyes full of defiance... there was no way.

Patrick started to splutter, waking himself up as the harsh white light 5.30 am broke through the bay windows. He groaned loudly, clearly hung over.

"The fuck am I?" he grumbled to himself, struggling with the sheets he was tangled in "God, I'm gonna be late."

"You're lucky you're not in the back of a rubbish truck." Francis told him, startling him significantly.

Patrick spun around, tripping over the sheets, staring wide eyed at Francis, who continued to stare at the ceiling. Having taken that information into his dehydrated brain, he took a good look around.

"You... moved out?" he reasoned.

"Not yet." Francis told him "We're decorating first."

"Please tell me you have coffee."

"I have a hose for you to clean out where you puked in my car."

"If you drive me to work, I will give you £100 to have it professionally cleaned."

"...Deal."

Francis hoisted himself up, shoulders aching where he was been lying on the floor. Patrick wrangled himself out of the sheets, accepting Francis' hand up to his feet. He checked for his keys, wallet and phone, sighing in relief to find them all present and correct.

"Please tell me Arthur didn't see me like this." he implored Francis.

"Why do you think I bought you here?"

"You're a good man."

Patrick stopped, paling a little before laughing awkwardly.

"What's with that expression?" he asked Francis "You're looking at me funny. I didn't try it on with you last night, did I?"

Patricks head was clearly starting to pound, and he paled further when Francis didn't immediately answer 'no.' There was no subtle way for Francis to put this, especially after thinking about it all night.

"Arthur's not Jamie." he said simply "He's not going to die."

Patricks face fell completely, eyes wide, awkward smile disappearing. He couldn't keep looking him in the eye, instead staring at the floor, green eyes darting erratically. With no way to break the tension, Francis gestured to the door.

"Let's go. I'll buy you some coffee on the way to work."

Patrick silently followed, eyes still on the ground. As Francis locked the door, there was a sudden shuffling behind them.

"You bastard!"

They both looked around – a furious Arthur stood at the front gate, sweaty and out of breath.

"Where the fuck have you been?!" he demanded "Were you here all night?! Why didn't you answer your fucking phone, you wanker?!"

"Did something happen?" Francis asked, immediately concerned at his clearly distressed state "The boys-"

Arthur leapt over the gate, bounding forward and grabbing Francis by the collar.

"No-one knew where you were, you fuck!" he screamed at him "Did you think that wasn't going to worry anyone?! Jeanne didn't know, your friends didn't know, even I didn't know! That's so out of character, did you think it wasn't going to freak people out, you bastard?!"

"Hey, hey, that's my fault!" Patrick interrupted, drawing Arthurs fury "Francis was just being a good friend."

"He's not your friend!" Arthur barked at him "And you're a prick! What are you even doing here?! Were you drunk?! Don't get Francis involved in your problems!"

"I lost a patient." was all he said, causing Arthur to stop in his tracks.

Francis could see Arthurs thoughts ticking over behind his emerald eyes, his body language softening.

"Aren't you... a child psychologist?"

"Yeah." Patrick answered quietly.

Arthur backed down, although he was still clearly mad. He was as blind-sided by it as Francis has been yesterday, struggling to find the words.

"I'm... sorry..."

Patrick smiled weakly.

"It was a shock." he admitted "He was nine years old..."

A horrid silence fell. Patrick finally looked up, right into Arthurs face with what would have been an unreadable expression if not for his drunken confession.

"I'm glad you're here." he admitted "Peter's doing really well – he'll be out of hospital soon."

"Oh. That's great." Arthur agreed, clearly happy for the change of subject.

"His christening is in a while." Patrick informed them "It's only right that his godfather's there, and I'm sure Angus and Meredith would love Francis and boys to be there too. You should bring Ivan along as well."

"I'll... think about it." Arthur offered.

Francis wanted to hug him – he could see the state Patrick was in, so was putting his own feelings aside. Patrick seemed to notice as well, smiling a little.

"Sorry for making you worry." he apologised "It's not something that happens a lot, thank goodness... I don't think I could be a medical doctor. My heart couldn't take it."

"I can imagine." Arthur sympathised.

Another awkward silence followed.

"We should go." Francis pointed out.

"Oh, yeah." Patrick agreed, turning to Arthur "I'll call you as soon as the date for the christening is set. Can I call you at home?"

"...Sure."

Patrick followed Francis into the car, seemingly not even noticing the stale puke smell. Arthur leaned down to look into the window before they drove away.

"You should have a shower before work if you can." he suggested "You look like shit – you'll upset your kids."

"I'll try." Patrick laughed.

Glancing at him as he drove off, Francis noted Patrick kept his eyes on the rear view mirror, specifically on Arthur. He gripped his seatbelt as he disappeared from view. There was silence for an uncomfortably long time.

"Please tell me you don't live in the city, or £100 won't be enough to get me to work on time." Francis said finally, realising he had no idea where Patrick actually worked.

"No, I'm just over the bridge." he informed him "At the Euro Clinic. You know where that is?"

"I'll can get to the high street, you'll have to direct me from there."

"Sure."

They fell silent again. Pulling down the visor, Patrick brushed his hands through his hair to neaten it up as much as he could before sitting back.

"What... I mean, how much did I say last night?" he asked "About Jamie?"

"Nothing that would get your fired." Francis assured "Just enough to explain why you're so keen to mend things with Arthur."

Patrick sighed deeply, closing his eyes a moment.

"I thought he'd be fine. He had his big brothers to take care of him. It was just like we all were back then. I thought... I let him down. That little boy needed me, and I didn't see. Arthur was fine, so I thought Jamie would be too... when I heard he had killed himself, I got so scared. What if Arthur wasn't fine? What if I messed up with him too? I couldn't live with that."

"Arthur's not Jamie." Francis repeated.

"Thanks to you." Patrick insisted "If Jamie had had a 'Francis'... a big brother who really took care of him... You know, the worst part was how his brothers reacted – they couldn't believe it. They were just kids themselves, they couldn't even comprehend..."

"Stop thinking about it." Francis suggested "You won't be any good to your kids today."

Patrick laughed through his nose.

"I was in a right state when I turned up at Angus and Merediths... it took them hours to calm me down. I know Arthur isn't Jamie, but... I still... want to make things right... Somehow. It's a left up here."

"Yeah, if you want to take an hour." Francis disagreed, turning down the shortcut to the highstreet "And don't think I'm going to forget about the £150 just because you're upset."

Patrick laughed.

"Yeah... okay."

* * *

So, Patricks true motivations are revealed. Nothing nefarious, but a little difficult to write all the same. This chapter's a little shorter than previous ones, but I wanted to post it tonight. Long time readers might notice that 'Jamie' is how Ireland referred to Northern Ireland in 'Sometimes Friends, Sometimes Enemies, Always Brothers' - is it the same Jamie? No, but make of it what you will. Perhaps shorter chapters is what it takes to keep me on a good schedule?

On a side note, I noticed that I used a lot of British dialect in this that may confuse Americans or people who don't have English as their first language - 'bladdered' for example, meaning drunk, or 'pulled', which in this context means to go home with someone you just met for sex. If anyone needs me to translate something into plain English, let me know and I'll post an appendix at the end of the chapter!

As always, all reviews more than welcome!


	10. Chapter 10 Dangerous Games

The plot thickens...

* * *

**Dangerous Games.**

"Alright boys, here are the rules." Jeanne announced, hands on her hips sternly "Tonight is the purge. I fully expect you're going to get drunk."

Ivan and Arthur sat on the sofa before her, hands in their laps, half jumping in their seats as they fidgeted. Their exams had been stressful, and what should have been two weeks felt like an eternity. A stressful, tiring eternity. Tonight, after the final day of exams, was the towns infamous 'purge', when all the students let loose, got shit-faced and screamed until their lungs hurt, generally living in the impetuousness of youth as they shook off the stress of exam season before going home for the summer.

"Hand over your keys." Jeanne ordered, which they promptly did "I don't want you coming back here and waking up the boys. If you can't get to Ivans place and need a place to stay, go to the new house."

"Please don't." Francis begged "I just put the carpets in."

"Don't worry!" Gilbert assured, putting his arm around her shoulders "I'll take care of these two! Tonight's gonna be awesome!"

"Give me your keys too." she demanded.

"It's cool, it's cool!" Gilbert insisted "Grandpa's chief of police, remember? Worst comes to worst, the cops will just take us to his place!"

"That's not reassuring."

"We won't drink that much." Arthur promised.

Ivan laughed – he knew very well that Arthur didn't need to drink that much to get trolleyed, while his tolerance was near herculean.

"I don't care how much you drink, as long as you don't come banging on the door at 3am like... like some others do." Jeanne elaborated "Stay together, be safe and have fun."

The three then left. Alfred begged to go with them, but was of course not allowed. Francis declined to go, since he was no longer a student, and Antonio and Lizzie had childcare responsibilities, so going on the lash was beyond them for the moment. Gilbert was in particularly high spirits, as his PhD thesis had been accepted, marking an end to his studies in engineering.

"I am gonna drink soooooo much!" he swore as the three of them ambled to the Chinnaty club "There's gonna be no beer left in the club by the time I'm done!"

"Don't count on it." Arthur teased "Mr Wang's been stocking up for the past week."

"I consider that a personal challenge!"

"Just keep your hands to yourself this time." Ivan warned.

"Whassat? I can't deprive the lovely ladies of Hetalia of this awesomeness!"

"Ladies are fine." Ivan elaborated "Just don't touch what's not yours."

As they left the residential zone and entered the highstreet, the area was immediately flooded with young people in various states of inebriation, laughing and shouting as they stumbled along the street. The restaurants knew better than better than to be open tonight, but better than to let the easy money of the students slip away, blocking off the bottom half their doors and serving food kiosk style to the long lines. The Indian, Chinese and pizza places were of course the most popular, followed by the chippie and kebab shop, but as they all belonged to Mr Wang anyway, it was safe to say he was the real winner tonight.

At the Chinnaty club, Berwald had roped Mathias into standing on the door with him (working on purge night was triple time, no joke), and Tino had taken Arthurs shift. Lillys brother had taken her shift, partly for the money and partly so overprotective Vash could keep an eye on her. She and Aarav were already there when the three of them arrived, waving them over to the booth they had been reserving. Vash immediately glared daggers at Gilbert.

"Aarav, you're drinking?" Arthur asked "That's rare."

"It's a rare occasion." Aarav agreed "And I shan't be having too much – Ivan will need help when you get up on the table and start stripping."

"I will not be stripping!"

Ivan laughed.

"We'll see."

* * *

Francis gently closed the door to the boys room. He knew they were a little old for bed time stories, but he just loved reading them, watching the two fall asleep gently. He would miss that when he moved out. He descended the stairs to the living room, where his mother sat reading a book. She sighed as he turned on the tv.

"Purge night is always so stressful." she admitted "I feel so cooped up, but everything's closed so there's nowhere to go."

"At least it's only one night a year." Francis reasoned.

"Yes, I suppose. Are you sure you didn't want to go out tonight? Your brother is out, and it's not like I can go anywhere."

"No, I did it once, that was enough."

Just as he said that, his phone started to holler. His heart stopped as he saw the name on the display. He immediately hopped up and went into the playroom, closing the door behind him. He was a little relieved when his mother laughed, muttering to herself about the woman she thought was calling him. Francis very much wished it had been a woman.

"Finally!" Patricks voice rung clear through the line "I thought you were never going to answer!"

"Why are you calling me so late?" Francis asked "You're not drunk again, are you?"

He snorted derisively.

"No and no." he swore "I don't think I'll be drinking for a while."

"A good idea." Francis agreed "So what do you want that you couldn't tell me earlier in the day?"

"Enjoying purge night?"

"You keep up with university schedules? That's not creepy."

"Last night of exam season, same week every year." Patrick remembered "And anyway, Angus wanted to make sure the christening didn't clash with Arthurs exams."

"You have a date?"

"Week on Wednesday." he informed him "The doctors wouldn't allow it before, but he'll be strong enough by then. You're all invited – the more the merrier! Arthur, the twins, you, Ivan... bring your mother! Or a girlfriend, if you have one."

"Mother won't want to come." he knew.

"Hm." was his only answer "You're not out with Arthur tonight?"

"I'm not a student."

"You're still young – you and your friends could blend in pretty easily."

"Half my friends are parents. Not exactly a heavy drinking crowd."

"Oh yeah? Good for them."

"What do you want, Patrick?" Francis sighed.

"Well, I figure I owe you for the other day." Patrick admitted "For listening to my sorry drunk arse and... well, for keeping it to yourself, as well. If you aren't 'purging' with Arthur, then how about coming to my place? I realise you've probably had dinner already, but I make a mean pavlova – the secret is Irish cream!"

Francis couldn't help but snort at how proud Patrick sounded. This seemed to make him pretty happy.

"Are you baby sitting tonight?" he asked.

"No." Francis answered "They're in bed already. Besides, with the purge going on my mother's spending the evening at home."

"Hm?" was the reply "Then you're free to come over?"

"I don't know about that. It's a little late to come over."

"He can go!" his mother called from the other side of the door, startling him to the point that he nearly dropped the phone "Francis, don't keep a lady waiting!"

His whole body flushed._ Mother, it's really not like that..._

"You heard her." Patrick teased "Don't keep me waiting. Meet me at work and I'll guide you from there."

* * *

Ivan kept his arms firmly on Arthurs squirming waist. He had already reached the stripping stage, which luckily Ivan had managed to curtail at the shirtless phase. While Ivan was more than happy let the world know Arthur belonged to him, heavy petting in public wasn't his style, but tonight it was difficult not to take him right here, right now, especially after almost a month of abstinence during the exam seasons. Arthur seemed more than up for it as well, demanding every second of his time with kisses and wandering hands. Ivan didn't at all mind, but it was getting harder to resist... perhaps it was time for them to go home soon.

The club was predictably packed, the only thing louder than its young occupants the raging music. The drink flowed like water, but there was surprisingly little in the way of trouble – it was half way through the night before Lilly reminded them that her brother was by trade a policeman, and Tino had done four years in the army, so the two were more than adept at keeping the peace inside while imposing Berwald and Mathias stood guard outside. Lilly and Aarav weren't big drinkers, so spent most of the night dancing – or dancing as well as one could in that crowd. Gilbert was a regular social butterfly, and the more he drank the more friends he had. Mr Wang also fluttered around the crowd, keeping people sweet with friendly words and free nibbles.

"That's the secret to avoiding property damage during the purge!" he revealed to Ivan as he popped half a dozen wontons into Arthurs mouth "The snacks don't cost much, and they keep the drinkers sober enough to buy more drinks. That's where the real money is! Remember that for next year!"

"Yes sir."

"I swear, you always get naked when you're drunk." Mr Wang teased Arthur "Do you hate clothes that much?"

Arthur tried to answer, but with a mouth full of wontons that was of course difficult. Mr Wang just laughed.

"Silly boy."

He took the time to ruffle Arthurs messy thatch before going back into the crowd.

* * *

"I hate you."

"Oh come one, that was funny."

"It was not funny."

Patrick wasn't lying – it was one hell of a pavlova. So much so that Francis wasn't sure if was safe for him to drive home. Patrick took full advantage of this, pouring Francis another glass of red wine.

"You don't expect me to drink the entire the bottle, do you?" Francis laughed.

"I told you I'm not drinking for a while." Patrick reminded him "And what's the worst that will happen to you? Will you be arrested for being hung over in charge of a comb?"

"I'll have you know, those scissors are very sharp!"

Patricks flat was pretty nice – not as big as Francis' new house, of course, but not tiny either. It reminded Francis of Henry Kirklands house, only cleaner, the random dusty clutter replaced by books, magazines and odd collectables.

"I have to know," Francis said, picking an object off the side and examining it "What is this and where on earth did you get it?"

"It's a megalodon tooth." Patrick explained "I got it in South America during my gap year."

"Wow, you travelled? You didn't strike me as the type."

"I'll have you know I've been to 3 of the 5 continents!" he went on to brag "I volunteered in Africa for six months, travelled in South America for four and toured the cities of Europe for two between my masters and doctorate. It was good times."

"And went shopping every night, judging by the amount of crap on every surface."

"Mock all you want, local boy, I've got millions of interesting stories to tell – my kids love hearing about when an alpaca ate my hat, and I got chased up a tree by a warthog!"

Francis snorted at the image. He had never travelled, except on family holidays, but he liked hearing about other peoples experiences.

"I plan on going to Paris one day." he admitted "But I don't think I'm in danger of warthogs there."

"No, but watch out of the geese along the rivers – they're vicious creatures! They could give a warthog a run for its money!"

Francis burst out laughing again. Patrick grinned, poured himself another cup of tea and pulled out his best tales.

* * *

It was time to go home. Vashs occupied shift had ended, so he took the tipsy Lilly home with him, dropping Aarav back at his student digs on the way. Arthur had passed the stripping stage and was on the sleepy stage, so Ivan wanted to get him home for some personal time before he actually fell asleep. He didn't much care where Gilbert was, but figured he should say goodbye to Mr Wang before leaving, finding him berating a completely bladdered Yong Soo in the corner of the room.

"Whaaaat, you're going already?" he whined "The night's just getting started!"

"It's already 2.45." Ivan pointed out.

"Well, that's-"

A loud yell came from the other side of the room, making Ivans stomach drop – it was_ that_ kind of yell, the one that he heard a lot when he had been on the door: a fight was starting. Looking over... _ugh_, of course it was Gilbert... And right beside him, needless to say, was Arthur, squaring up the the equally inebriated bastard starting trouble. The grinning Gilbert smacked him on the shoulder, encouraging him further.

"Aiya!" Mr Wang exclaimed, letting go of his brother "Ivan, take care of those idiots!"

"Arthur-" Ivan protested.

"I'll take care of Arthur – you stop those rowdys!"

"Berwald!" Ivan yelled, beckoning him in from the front door.

Trust Gilbert to get into a fight with the whole rugby team! True to his word, Mr Wang immediately pulled Arthur out the fray, he being too pissed and disorientated to argue, leading him into his office. Ivan sighed – he really didn't want to do this tonight, but he could let Mr Wang down.

* * *

Arthur wasn't that much bigger than Yao Wang, and in this state he wasn't a match for him, despite being much younger (but don't ask how much younger, that's a closely guarded secret). He pulled him away from the raucous on the work floor and into his office – Arthur nearly fell over the comfy chair in front Yaos desk, laughing at his own clumsiness. That fight would keep Ivan busy for a while, and it was better if reactionary Arthur was out of the way, especially since he had passed the stripping stage and entered the 'you wanna fight?' stage.

Yao laughed to himself as Arthur stumbled about, back to his office door. He clicked it closed behind him, turning the key in the lock.

"What am I to do with you?" Yao wondered aloud "You're a pitiful drunk – can't handle your drink at all."

"I'm not as think and you drunk I am!" Arthur slurred, stumbling over the desk "Honest!"

Yao laughed again. He didn't want Arthur breaking anything, so stepped forward and took his hands, pinning him to the table. Arthur just laughed.

"You're a right pretty lass, but I am taken." he giggled.

"I know." Yao smiled "It's written all over you. Ivans got a thing for the nape of your neck, by the look of it."

Arthur snickered. Ivan had stopped him stripping totally, but his torso was available for everyone to see, including evidence of Ivans... affections.

"He does!" he agreed "When we're in the bath, right, he HIC, you know, HIC."

He fell into giggles again. Yao usually had little time for drunks, but he could be patient for his Arthur.

"I've always preferred your eyes." he admitted "Emerald green – I could stare at them all day."

He swooped in for the kill, Arthur too drunk to stop himself being kissed. His lips were soft and plump, a little salty from all the beer he had been drinking. Feeling that he wasn't struggling, Yao let go of Arthurs hands, instead slipping them around his waist. Acting on impulse alone, Arthur reciprocated, wrapping his arms around him, squeezing him tightly when the older man slipped in his tongue.

Yaos heart was pounding in his ears – he had wanted this for a while. When had he stopped seeing Arthur as a child, and instead as an adult, a man, an object of sexual desire? Around the beginning of his university, he reckoned, when his shoulders got broader and he stopped acting like a belligerent child... although, that side of him was fun as well. He was jealous of Ivan, getting there first, but he couldn't hurt that child, so kept his fantasies, and his hands, to himself.

With no shirt to remove, Yaos hands went straight south, unbuttoning Arthurs jeans and slipping sweetly inside. There was only one academic year left until Arthur and Ivan graduated, no longer tying them to the town of Hetalia. Ivan was easy enough to keep local with promises of employment, but Arthur would be trickier – he was smarter than Ivan, he wanted more. Arthur wouldn't be satisfied with a life spent here, and every day closer to graduation was a day closer to him leaving. Yao didn't want him to leave. He didn't want that at all.

He released Arthur, leaving him panting.

"Arthur," he asked softly "Have you ever thought about getting married?"

"I'm not already?" he mumbled.

"I'm serious." Yao teased, although he was indeed serious "You and Ivan should get married. I'll pay for it."

A stray thought seemed to cross Arthurs wasted brain, his eyebrows knotting.

"If you want me to marry Ivan, why did you kiss me?"

Yao pushed Arthur down so he was lain on the table before climbing on top his him, sitting on his stomach. However much he had sobered up was immediately reversed by the headrush of the sudden movement.

"If you married me, Ivan would be upset, and I'd have wasted the cost of university tuition on a manager I can't use. If you don't marry him, you won't stay in Hetalia."

"Why does everybody think that?" Arthur wondered, craning his neck back to look at the things on the wall behind the desk "I like it here. My famry... famrilly... fam... d... boys are here!"

Yao laughed at his drunken state, gently pulling his head back to face him.

"I know you like it here." he cooed "And I'm going to make sure you like it even more."

* * *

"And then the Sherpa said to Angus, 'that's okay, those aren't my socks!'"

Francis' sides were physically hurting from the amount he had been laughing, head light from lack of air. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed this much, and he never expected Patrick would be the cause of it! He had drunk nearly 2 entire bottles of wine, lounging about on Patricks sofa listening to his wild stories of places far away.

"I can't imagine Angus up a mountain!" he told him.

"He wasn't up there for long!" Patrick assured "Another glass?"

"Oh, no, no, I can't!" Francis insisted as he tried to stifle his laughter "I still have to go home."

"I'll drive." Patrick promised "One more won't hurt."

"No, really, it's... shit, it's 3.30!" he realised, looking at his watch for the first time that night "When did that happen?"

"You have work tomorrow?"

"No, but I have to chauffeur the boys around in the morning." he groaned "I'm gonna need a lot of coffee."

Francis tried to stand, but between the wine and a dead leg he stumbled, caught immediately by Patrick.

"Whoa there, hasty!" he laughed "I'll drive you home. It's probably best if I take the boys around in the morning as well."

"Oh, I can't ask you to do that."

"You're not asking, I'm offering."

Patrick put his arm around Francis back to support his properly, grabbing his keys from the coffee table and half carrying him to the door.

* * *

Yaos whole body was tingling. He couldn't get enough air. He wanted more. He wanted it all. His mouth was dry, his lips chapped, fingers tangled in Arthurs scruffy blonde hair. His hips were aching, but his morals just wouldn't let him take the one final step he wanted. And he really did want. There was a knock on the door, startling him back to the here-and-now.

"Mr Wang?" Ivan called from the other side "Is everything okay? Why is the door locked?"

He immediately jumped off Arthur, straightening his hair and clothing and wiping his mouth, leaving Arthur where he was.

"What took you so long?" he demanded as he checked his appearance in the mirror – nothing out of the ordinary.

"Sorry, those rowdys were harder to get rid of than we thought."

"Did you get the police involved?"

"No. We took care of it."

"Good boy."

He unlocked the door and opened it to a clearly annoyed Ivan – his shirt was ripped in three places, hair messy and sporting a split lip.

"I locked the door in case those drunks decided to go for the safe." he informed the young man "Or if someone decided to use the fight as a cover to steal the nights takings. Purge night is the night we're most likely to get robbed, you know! That's why I allowed Vash and Tino to work here tonight."

"I'll remember that." Ivan muttered "Can I go now? I've had enough for one purge."

"Sure."

Yao didn't mention Arthur, but of course Ivan didn't forget him, gently pushing past his boss and into the office to fetch him.

"Arthur?" he called "You're not sleeping, are you?"

Arthur slurred something, but coherently. Ivan sighed deeply before grabbing his arm and pulling him up, slinging him over his shoulder.

"I won't be coming in to work for a little while." he announced suddenly.

"Oh?" Yao asked "Why's that?"

"I'm going to be on trial for murdering Gilbert."

He couldn't help but laugh. With a deep breath, he steeled himself to go back into his establishment to inspect the damage.

* * *

"Shhhhhh!" Francis hissed as Patrick hauled him out of the car "My mother told Arthur not to come back if he was drunk! She'll kill me if she hears you!"

"You're the one being loud." Patrick teased as he shut the door and pushed the button to arm the alarm.

"Me? I'm never loud!"

"Sshhhhhh!" he laughed "Where's you key?"

Francis fumbled around in his pockets before pulling out his house keys, which Patrick immediately took, shushing him again as he started to giggle. Francis was surprisingly heavy, and truth be told Patrick was struggling a little to keep him upright. The entire house was dark, but it was 4 in the morning in a residential area, so Patrick opened the door as silently as if he was breaking in, creeping across the threshold. He figured it would be easy enough to find which room was Francis' as he tiptoed up the stairs, happy that there were no toys littered about for them to trip on.

It turned out he didn't have to figure it out, as each door had a pukingly adorable name plate on it, starting with 'Mummy' and ending with 'Alfie and Matty.' Cute. Kinda feminine, but there were worse things. Francis started laughing again when Patrick practically threw him on his bed, back aching from his weight, so he covered his hand with his mouth, shushing him again. He started to protest, however, when Patrick started to undo the buttons on his shirt.

"I'm not going to do anything." he swore "But if you sleep in this lovely shirt you're going to ruin it. You have my word as a doctor, okay?"

Francis didn't seemed convinced, but fell asleep before he could argue. Patrick couldn't help but laugh through his nose. As he promised, he didn't do anything untoward while stripping Francis of his fancy clothes and tucking him into bed before stripping down himself.

"Whoops, looks like I forgot my pyjamas." he mused to himself as he was left in nothing but his pants, slipping into bed with Francis was setting the timer on his phone so he could take the boys to their clubs in the morning.

* * *

Francis sat in the kitchen, cigarette in his mouth, staring at his coffee. He wasn't..._ entirely_ sure what happened last night. Arthur stumbled into the kitchen, even more lacking in grace than usual, and dropped himself down on the chair opposite him. They sat in silence for a moment, regarding each others unkempt hair and dark bags.

"I think I need a new job." Arthur said finally, quiet enough not to aggravate his raging hangover.

"Why's that?" Francis asked, just as quietly.

"I'm not entirely sure." he admitted, scratching his head.

"Hm."

Francis reached into his dressing gowns pocket and pulled out his packet of cigarettes, handing one to Arthur, who lit it on the stove. They sat in silence again.

"Where are the boys?" Arthur asked.

"I'm not entirely sure." Francis admitted.

"Huh..." he paused "I'm going back to bed."

"Good idea."

They both stood, Francis following Arthur as they ambled up the stairs.

"I don't suppose you saw my car on the way home." Francis asked.

"Maybe the boys drove themselves to their clubs."

"Maybe."

They said good night on the landing, going into their rooms to sleep of the night like the hangover it was.

* * *

A rare moment of irresponsible parenting there :) It's so hot in England right now, it's unnatural, and I'm on the south coast, the part of the country where it's always hottest, so I'm melting :( IT'S UNNATURAL.

I have nothing clever to write here... sorry. Please review and look forward to more!


	11. Chapter 11 Tease

Everything feels like it's taking forever recently - although that might have something to do with the weather - it's bloody 30 degrees here! And before you say 'that's not much, here it's xxx', just remember that I live in England, and the stereotype about our weather is true. I can't concentrate at all in this heat :(

* * *

**Tease**

The christening was tastefully understated, family and close friends only in an old, small countryside church. Little Peter was easily twice the size he had been when he was born, but still tiny. He stared at everyone and nothing with his big, periwinkle blue eyes, his few tufts of hair the same sandy colour as his mothers, burbling and cooing to himself as the priest pontificated to the small gathering.

The twins had rarely had occasion to wear suits before, so they knew today was a big deal: Alfred fidgeted like crazy, talking to absolutely everyone and looking at everything that could possibly be looked at, while Matthew clung to Arthurs hand, equally as wide eyed as his brother, just taking everything in. Jeanne hadn't been happy at all about them going, but kept her opinion to herself for the most part, fuming quietly as Francis bundled the boys into his car.

It seems the operation had taken a greater toll on Meredith than they thought, as she arrived at the church in a wheelchair, standing only during the ceremony, during which Angus was the one to hold Peter. They hadn't backed off on the idea of Arthur being Peters godfather, Patrick pushing him to the font and standing between Francis and Owen.

At the end of the ceremony, the ecstatic parents treated them all to a pub lunch, and the group sat in the beer garden in the gentle early summer sun. Meredith kept Peter in her lap as Angus adjusted the pub umbrella over them, Alfred and Matthew pulling faces as the infant, who simply stared at them. Their brothers didn't have the heart to tell them that the baby couldn't see past his nose yet.

"He smiled!" Alfred declared "We did it!"

He and Matthew high-fived triumphantly, causing Meredith to laugh.

"Good job, you guys." she said.

"You're gonna be great uncles." Angus agreed "He'll never be lonely with you guys around!"

"He's still awfully small." Ivan noted to Arthur "Is it okay for him to be out of the hospital?"

"The doctor said it was." Arthur reasoned "And considering how premature he was, he'll likely always be small."

"I guess so." Ivan laughed "But I must say, you looked pretty happy holding him."

"Don't tease."

"I'm not teasing, I mean it."

"You have that look on your face like you're teasing."

Sat across the table from them, Owen did his best not to listen to them and concentrated on his pint. Finishing his ice tea, Patrick decided to join in.

"Ever considered adopting?" he asked, grin spreading across his face.

Ivan nearly choked on his lemonade, coughing and spluttering and banging his chest, getting him a concerned look from those around him.

"He doesn't really like kids." Arthur revealed.

"It's different when they're your own." Angus promised them.

"You've always struck me as the type who's hard on the outside and soft on the inside." Patrick teased the large man "You say you hate kids, but I think you'd be good with them."

"I disagree." Ivan said plainly "Just ask Alfred and Matthew."

"He's a jerk." Alfred confirmed.

"He's always nice to me." Matthew disagreed.

Patrick just laughed.

"We'll see." Meredith teased "A couple years of marriage and Peter will have a cousin to play with."

Ivan paled, awkward smile frozen on his face.

"H-hey, who's talking about marriage?" Arthur stuttered, waving his hands in denial "That's a long way off! If at all!"

"The look on Ivans face says otherwise." Patrick pointed out.

"So what about you, Francis?" Arthur almost yelled "You planning on having kids?"

"Subtle." Angus laughed.

"Of course I am." Francis came to the rescue "In fact, I even have a plan."

"What's that then?" Patrick asked,

"Well, if I'm not married with kids by the time the boys are 18, I'll adopt." he revealed.

"Sounds like a solid plan." Angus agreed.

"Then we'll finally have a sister!" Alfred declared "That'll be awesome!"

"Like I said before..." Angus sighed.

"Let it go, sweetie." Meredith laughed.

The alarm on Arthurs watch went off, startling everyone. He just caught himself before swearing as he turned it off.

"Gotta go to work." he moaned.

"Thank you so much for coming." Meredith bid.

"We'll see you soon." Angus agreed.

Arthur took a moment to give Peter a kiss on the top of his head, which he responded to by yawning widely. Ivan finished his drink and stood as well.

"I'll see you at dinner time." Francis bid "Pick up a brisket, will you?"

"Yeah, yeah."

As they walked out of the beer garden, Ivan patted Matthew on the head. He didn't have to work, but there was really no reason for him to hang around with the Kirklands (and Francis), so he had bought his sisters car to drive the two of them home. They had gotten to the end of the road before Ivan had to speak.

"You don't want to get married?"

It was Arthurs turn to choke, mostly from how unexpected the question was – despite being together as a couple for nearly three years and friends for over a decade before, talk of marriage had never come up.

"It's not that I don't want to." Arthur defended "But... I mean, we've never even talked about it."

"I didn't think we had to." Ivan admitted "You love each other, you get married – I thought that was natural."

"Well... yeah... but... I mean... It's the kind of thing we should discuss first."

"What's to discuss?" Ivan asked "You don't want to marry me?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Stop making my decisions for me!" Arthur snapped, startling Ivan a little.

"What? When did I do that?" he defended.

"When you decided I was never going to work after graduation!" Arthur reminded him "Any other decisions you've made on my behalf? Where are we going to live? What month are we going to get married in? What am I going to wear tomorrow?"

"On the river by my sister, June and that new uniform with the pink shirt. Any other questions?"

"You-!" Arthur exasperated "You're unbelievable!"

"I don't understand why you're mad." Ivan announced "You like the houses by the river, June is your favourite month and the new uniform comes into affect tomorrow."

"That's not the point! What if I don't want to live by the river? What if I want to get married in the autumn? What if I actually want to adopt some kids? If you make every important decision for the both of us, then you really don't need me at all, do you?!"

Silence fell, heavy and hard. Ivan thought carefully about his answer as Arthur crossed his arms over his chest.

"You want kids?" Ivan asked finally.

"Yes." Arthur said bluntly.

"How many?"

"Two."

"Okay. I want to get married."

"So I figured."

"You okay with that?"

"I'm fine with that."

"Good."

* * *

Despite the lovely weather, the café by the river was empty. Arthur said goodbye the only customers they'd had in hours, sighing as the bell above the door signalled its closure.

"This is dire." he moaned, thinking that his brothers were still probably at the pub.

"Well, it's football season." Mr Wang reasoned as he counted the money in the till "It was bound to be quiet."

"If it was 'bound to be quiet', why did you drag me away from the christening? You could have handled this on your own."

"Because the insurance is void if someone is here alone." was his answer "And Natalia booked this week off a long time ago."

"You have other employees."

"And they were busy too."

Arthur wanted to argue, but Mr Wang was still his boss, so there was only so far he could take it. Grumbling internally, he went to wipe down the tables.

"Oh, stop moaning, sweetheart." Mr Wang teased as he shut the register "There are worse ways to spend an afternoon than with me."

"I can think of better ways." Arthur mumbled.

"Is that so?"

Well, fuck, Mr Wang had pretty good hearing. Arthur immediately regretted opening his mouth as he marched over and sat himself on the table Arthur was trying to clean.

"And what would those be?" he challenged.

Arthur sighed – in for a penny, in for a pound.

"Playing with Alfred and Matthew; buying furniture for the new house; getting started on my reading for next year; having a picnic with Ivan; learning the violin; sewing a tapestry; watching the football; going for a walk along the river; having a pint and my personal favourite, not hanging around an empty café on the off chance that someone who's not doing any of those things might pass by... Mr Wang."

They stared each other down – Arthur felt like a mouse being stared down by a snake, growing more and more nervous as the seconds passed. Without a word, Mr Wang got up from the table, crossed the room to the door and locked it, flipping the sign to 'closed.'

"You're right." he declared to Arthurs shock "It's costing us money to be open with no customers. Let's go do something else."

"Uh... something else?" Arthur ventured.

"My pool needs cleaning." Mr Wang announced "My garage needs clearing out and dusting and my gutters could use a seeing to as well."

"Hire a handyman!"

Mr Wang just laughed.

"Come on, let's go."

"Seriously, Mr Wang, it's not like you can't afford one."

"While we're on the subject, aren't you a little old to still be calling me 'Mr Wang'?"

"That wasn't the subject."

"You're an adult now, you can call me by my name."

"I'm not cleaning your pool."

Walking back over, Mr Wang pulled off Arthurs tie.

"You know what it is, don't you?" he asked "It's 'Yao'. Try saying it. 'Yao.'"

"I'm still not cleaning your pool, Yao."

"You tease." he laughed.

"How am I a tease?" Arthur sighed.

"Oh, lots of ways."

Arthur was getting pretty sick of people teasing him today. Mr Wang... or rather, Yao seemed to pick up on his annoyance.

"Oh cheer up, grumpy. Let's you and me do something fun."

"Your idea of fun is watching me clean your pool." Arthur knew, causing Yao to laugh again.

"Yes, that's true." he agreed "But I was thinking something more traditional – come to my place and I'll cook you something."

Arthur regarded him with extreme suspicion – his cooking was world famous, but it was never without a price.

"What's the catch?" he asked.

"We have a little chat about the future."

"I'll stay here, thanks."

* * *

It was about 5 o'clock when Francis bundled the boys into the car. Peter had long since fallen asleep, but Matthew and Alfred still didn't want to leave, doing everything short of waking the tot up. It had been a long day for Francis, however, so he was more than happy to go home. Patrick saw them to the car.

"Thanks again for coming, and bring the boys along." the doctor said as Francis closed the back door "Today was pretty good, right?"

"Yeah." Francis grumbled.

"What's with that face?" Patrick asked "You didn't have a good day? Didn't offend you somehow, did I?"

"Nothing like that." he admitted.

Francis regarded Patrick with some suspicion, for which he was met with a look of confusion.

"That night I went to your place," he elaborated "There are some... holes, in my memory. One minute I'm eating pavlova at your place, the next I'm waking up with us both in our underwear and no memory of what happened."

Patrick snorted with laughter, which both reassured and annoyed Francis.

"Love your optimism, but I prefer brunettes." Patrick teased "Nothing that you wouldn't tell your mother about happened."

"You swear?"

"Every damn day."

"Patrick!"

He laughed again, holding up his hands to show his fingers weren't crossed.

"I swear, on my honour as a doctor and a man." he promised.

Francis was reassured – even on the odd occasion he went drinking with his friends, he never drunk to the blackout point, and having finally experienced it, he wasn't keen to do it again.

"You know, we're having a barbecue at Angus' house in a couple of weeks." Patrick went on "The boys will be on school holiday, right? We'll organise it on a day when you and Arthur aren't working – it'll be fun."

"We'll see." was as much as he would commit.

* * *

Damn. How were Mr... um, Yaos siblings not enormously fat, having grown up with cooking like this everyday? Arthur had lost count of the amount of dim sum he had eaten, and his host just made more every time he thought he had finished the plate. Yao seemed pretty happy as he watched him eat.

Arthur never stopped being amazed by Mr...FUCK, _Yaos_ house – it was by a large margin the biggest house in town, with outdoor _and_ indoor swimming pools, a gym and sauna, home cinema, a separate bed AND bathroom for each of his siblings and a garden big enough to get lost in. Considering he owned the most businesses in town, it was to be expected, but each time Arthur came over he was sure he had imagined the sheer size and luxury of the place, only to be proven wrong each time he came back – the first time he and Ivan had come over with Yong Soo, their eleven-year-old minds had nearly exploded.

"You want more?" Yao asked as he finished yet another plate.

"My mouth says yes, my stomach says 'please god no, have mercy.'"

Yao snorted with laughter, tossing the pots and pans into the sink to soak.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. I like cooking for people who appreciate it."

He gestured for Arthur to follow him into one of many reception rooms, where Arthur sat on the luxurious sofa while Yao poured them a couple of drinks. After his talk with Ivan earlier, he wasn't looking forward to discussing his 'future' with Mr Wa... oh, for gods sake... Anyway, he really didn't want to have this discussion right now. Yao, however, wasn't going to let it drop, sitting beside Arthur and handing him his drink.

"So," he began "Has Ivan popped the question yet?"

Getting right to the point, eh?

"In a manner of speaking." Arthur admitted.

"And you said yes?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Oh, my." Yao cooed "You don't sound very happy about it. What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie."

Yao put down his drink, taking Arthurs hand in his own.

"I've known you since you were a little boy." he reminded him "I know when something's bothering you. Tell me, Arthur."

Yaos hands sure were feminine, with elegant fingers and soft skin – he must use lotion. He waited for Arthur to speak, staring at him earnestly with his serious brown eyes. Arthur was caught – yes, his boss was a very dependable person, and his advice was always good, but Arthur knew for a fact he liked Ivan more than him, so there was no guarantee that anything he said wouldn't get back to him. Besides that, he and Yao weren't exactly friends, so opening up to him was kind of... awkward.

"I'm not really comfortable discussing this with you." he admitted.

"Don't be silly," Yao assured, brushing some blond hair behind Arthurs ear "You can tell me anything. You have my word, it stays between us... Are you upset that Ivan took so long to propose?"

"That's not the issue." Arthur admitted "It's more..."

"More?"

Arthur sighed. He wasn't getting out of this – Hell, maybe telling Mr... maybe telling Yao would help, since he had more than a little influence over Ivan. With another sigh, Arthur downed his drink to loosen his tongue, barely noticing that Yao instantly refilled it.

* * *

"And he's gone and decided that I'm not got going to work after graduating uni because he's got a good job lined up, and he's already picked where we're going to live and what month we're going to get married, and he did all this without discussing it with me at all! It's like he doesn't care what I think... we're supposed to be a couple, but he keeps deciding these things all on his own!"

"Oh, that must be so frustrating." Yao soothed, stroking his hand.

"Just because I do like houses beside the river and June is my favourite month, that doesn't mean he can go assuming these things! He can't go assuming my opinion! He can't make my decisions for me!"

Arthur wasn't a spirits drinker, so it didn't take much to get him three sheets to the wind. The young man was practically sat on Yaos lap, with the businessmans arms wrapped around his shoulders, his blond head down onto his chest like a mother soothing her upset child.

"Poor sweetie." he cooed "He can't keep doing that if you're going to have a happy marriage. Communication is key!"

"I don't know how to make him listen – we've talked about it before, but he keeps doing it!"

After so long in the business, Yao was an expert in what drink did what to whom, so he knew scotch was the the elixir to lower the young Arthurs inhibitions.

"Maybe you should get mad at him." Yao suggested, making sure the drunk was positioned comfortably on his lap "Let him know you're serious about this – it's because you never get mad at him that he doesn't listen."

"It'd be bad if we had a fight." Arthur said "I don't think I could cope with him being mad at me."

"Even though you're mad at him? If this goes on, with you being mad and keeping it all in, it will poison your relationship."

Yao started to stroke his hair.

"I don't want to see your relationship fall apart." he said "I promised Ivan a job after graduating because I thought he needed the stability, but it seems I'm just causing trouble – maybe a little instability will make him listen to you, help you make your plans together."

"Don't go that far!" Arthur cried immediately, breaking out of his grip to look him in the eye "He'd be devastated!"

Yao looked surprised by his sudden heel turn a moment, then smiled.

"Ivan's lucky to have you." he said "You care about him so much."

Yao kissed him. Arthurs whole body went rigid, eyes wide, as all thought left his brain. Yao licked Arthurs lips as he backed off.

"You'd never do _anything_ to hurt Ivan." he said before kissing him again.

Arthur was shocked almost to sobriety. Coming to his senses, he pushed Yao away, staring at him in disbelief as he held him at arms length.

"What... what are you doing?!" he cried "You just... you just kissed me!"

"Yeah," Yao confirmed "And I'm gonna do it again."

Yao went for him, but he leapt up away from the sofa, nearly tripping over the coffee table in his eagerness to get away.

"You're my boss! And Ivans boss! And you're old enough to be my father! I've known you since I was ten!"

"All true." Yao admitted "But you haven't been ten for a very long time now."

"Why did you kiss me?!"

"Because I wanted to."

Arthur was flabbergasted... he suddenly remembered his creeping suspicion of needing a new job after purge night, and his stomach reeled.

"You're not serious..."

"I'm perfectly serious." Yao said.

With a sweep of his leg, Yao tripped Arthur, forcing him down onto the coffee table. He was immediately upon him, sat on his shocked lap with his arms around his shoulders.

"As for my age... well, I won't mention it if you don't."

He kissed him again, bolder this time, keeping Arthurs hands pinned under his knees to stop himself being pushed away again. Arthur tried to pull his head back, but Yao was stronger than he looked, and he wasn't letting go until he had his fill. Fortunately for him, Arthur was also stronger than he looked, prying his hands free and forcing the older man away.

"Knock that shit off!" he swore "What do you think you're playing at?! That's not on!"

Pushing Yao back onto the sofa, Arthur got up and proceeded to storm out of the room, head suddenly swimming from the amount he had drunk.

"You better believe I quit!" he declared over his shoulder.

"No you don't." Yao countered "And furthermore, you're going to come back here and play with me until I'm bored."

"And why the hell would I do that?"

"Because you'd never do anything to hurt Ivan."

Arthur stopped. He wasn't serious... surely? He turned around to face him, and the smile on his face told Arthur that he was definitely serious. Yao picked his drink up from the coffee table, taking a sip as he sat back.

"If I stopped paying for Ivans university, he'd be in big trouble." he elaborated "It's a bad economy, someone as straightforward as him would have trouble finding work."

"You wouldn't." Arthur challenged.

"I would. Although, Katyusha has proved herself pretty capable, but she certainly couldn't find work here in Hetalia. And Natalya is at such an important stage in her schooling, it would be difficult for her to move."

"You honestly think that will work? You can't just fire Katyusha for no reason, she can take you to an employment tribunal!" Arthur pointed out "Your reputation as a businessman will be shot! And for that matter, you think Ivan will want to work for you after I tell him about this?"

"You won't tell him about this." Yao knew certainly.

He put his drink down, pulling off his tie and tossing it aside before undoing the top buttons on his shirt.

"You care more about Ivan than your own pride." he elaborated "Otherwise you wouldn't be limiting yourself like this."

"Limiting?"

"You were accepted into Kings College in London, weren't you?" Yao remembered "A much more prestigious establishment than a former polytechnic like Hetalia university, but you chose to stay here instead to be with him. Now you're on the verge of graduating, you're choosing to marry him instead of moving away to seek a career. If that's not limiting yourself, I don't know what is." he took a sip of his drink "If Yong Soo had gotten into Kings College, I would have beat him senseless for choosing to stay here for some girl."

He put his empty glass on the table, looking up at Arthur through his thick, dark lashes.

"If you tell Ivan, one of two things will happen." he predicted "Either he won't believe you, you'll resent him for it, you'll argue and break up and he'll be heartbroken and devastated for life: or he will believe you, quit his job and his university course and ruin his future, unable to trust anyone ever again."

Shit... he had really thought this out. But why? This made no sense!

"Why?" he asked "I've always looked up to you... you've always been someone I can rely on!"

"And you've always been my blond angel." Yao admitted, sly smile creeping further across his face as he got to his feet "So feisty and full of energy."

"But Ivan-"

"My little teddy bear." he laughed "Keeping him close was easy. Keeping you close was always going to be harder."

Yao crossed the room to where Arthur was standing, slipping his arms around his waist and pulling him close.

"I'm glad you two became friends with Yong Soo." he admitted "I got to see you grow up into fine men. Ivan has become so steadfast and dependable and you... you've become fine in your own way."

Yao nuzzled Arthurs neck, kissing it gently as he ran his hands up his back.

"Everything I've done for so long has been for the sake of others." he muttered "You're the one thing I want for myself."

"But why?" Arthur repeated, too shocked to do more than utter it.

"The heart wants what it wants." was his only answer "Come and have another drink, Arthur, we can talk about your future – yours and Ivans – properly."

* * *

"Arthur?" Francis knocked on the door again "Arthur? Are you okay? Do you feel sick?"

"FUCK OFF."

Well, that was reassuring. The second Arthur had returned from work, he had shut himself in his room and refused to come out. Did something happen at work? Or with Ivan? Talk of marriage and children had made them both a little jumpy earlier... had they had a fight?

"Arthur?"

"I said fuck off!"

"I'm coming in."

"Don't bother!"

Francis opened the door anyway, entering the darkened room, where he spied Arthur curled up on the bed, covers pulled right up over him. Something had definitely happened. Francis sat on the edge of the bed, laying a hand on where he supposed Arthur shoulder was.

"Ar-"

"Don't touch me!" he yelled, flinching up into a tighter ball "Go away!"

"What happened?"

"Nothing! Go away!"

"Did you fight with Ivan?"

"No!"

"Did something happen at work?"

"I told you, no!"

"Don't you lie to me!"

Francis grabbed the sheets and hauled them off, revealing the thoroughly unhappy Arthur, eyes red rimmed like he had been crying. He glared daggers at Francis before covering his head with his pillow and curling up into a ball again.

"Arthur, what happened?" Francis demanded "Talk to me!"

Francis grabbed the pillow in an attempt to pull it away, thrown back suddenly when his brother straight out punched him. Shocked beyond words, he simply stared at him, jaw hurting like he had never felt before as those green eyes started to water.

"How can I trust you?" he whimpered "How can I trust anyone?"

What? What had happened? Arthur squeezed his eyes shut tight to force the tears back, sobs starting to rise in his throat. Without a word, Francis picked himself up and wrapped his arms around Arthur.

"Hey, it's okay." he soothed "Sshhh, it's okay."

Arthur grabbed his arm, squeezing it tight as he continued to fight the tears.

* * *

Ivan proposes (kind of) and Yao makes his move... sorry Arthur, things are only going to get worse for you... All reviews welcome! They will refresh my heat addled brain!


	12. Chapter 12 The More Things Change

OMG FINALLY! This chapter was a long time coming, but I've been crazy busy of late - the busy season arrived late at work, and I've been hired to animate a title credit, along with original stuff that I'm writing... I'm a bust person of late...

For those unfamiliar, the title is a small part of a longer phrase - 'the more things change, the more they stay the same.' I didn't want someone to be left out of the meaning because they've not heard it before.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**The More Things Change.**

Arthur had no idea what was going on – it seemed to be romance, but there was also some kung fu here and there, along with a spat of slapstick – what the hell was the plot? Despite not speaking Chinese, Arthur kept his attention on the movie: anything to keep his mind of reality.

He was at Yaos house, and it was late. What lie had he told Ivan for him not to be suspicious about their activities? Said Ivan was working late into the night, more and more often these days and not by coincidence. Yao sat back against the armrest, tie discarded and buttons on his shirt undone, exposing his bare chest. His arms were wrapped around Arthur, who he had pulled against himself, absently fingering his mussy yellow hair. Arthur just kept his eyes on the movie.

"This is my favourite part." Yao told him, scratching the young man lightly behind his ear "This movie came out when I was your age and it's still the most romantic thing I've ever seen."

Whatever. Arthur bit his tongue, trying to ignore the slender fingers caressing his head and concentrate on the film.

* * *

"Alright, where does this one go?" Lizzie called, large box in her sturdy arms.

"In the dining room." Francis told her as he unpacked the larger boxes in the living room "That's my grandmothers china, so please don't drop it. Toni, that one goes in the kitchen."

"Alright!"

Outside on the street, the bright blue moving van sat idle, the young adults pulling out the boxes within one by one. Francis had had the foresight to buy the large furniture in advance, setting it up

a few days before the move, so all the beds, chairs, tables and sideboards were all ready and waiting for their dressings and bric-a-brac. Truth be told, he expected to butt heads with Arthur more over what kind of furniture to buy for their new... 'bachelor pad' wasn't really fitting, as it conjured up horrid images of dirt and excess that neither of them was going to be indulging in (the twins had their own keys, afterall), but in the end they found a similar taste in older furniture – albeit Arthurs in Victoriana and Francis' in Art Nouveau. They cobbled together an interesting collection, picking up the odd bits at antique shops and car boot sales over the past few months. The only modern furniture was in the twins bedroom, in the shape of a bunk bed, two work desks and a chest a drawers.

"I swear half of this is the crap you threw away when your grandmother died." Gilbert moaned as he arranged the DVD's alphabetically on their new shelves.

"Well, my grandmother had good taste." was his response "Will you do the books next?"

"Only if I can cross reference the authors surname by the year the book was published."

"Whatever makes you happy."

Leaving Gilbert to his fun, Francis went to haul in more boxes. Antonio plodded up beside him as he got to the back end of the truck.

"Bro, there's no-one in town more qualified to set up your kitchen than me." he bragged "I won't alphabetise your cutlery like Gilbert. Gimme your kitchen boxes."

Francis just laughed, pointing out the three boxes full of pots and plates on the right hand side. Antonio immediately picked two up and disappeared back into the house.

"Well, hello, grumpy." Francis greeted as Arthur stomped out of the house "How are things going upstairs?"

"Fine." Arthur muttered, stepping around Francis and grabbing another box before disappearing back into the house.

Fine my arse – Arthur had noticeably changed since the christening, hardly talking to anyone, staying out all hours of the night and picking at his food like a disinterested sparrow. Even the boys had noticed something was wrong, but Arthur wasn't talking, and after his breakdown the other week he was keeping a painful distance from Francis. Francis himself hoped that finally moving into the new house would help lift his spirits, or at least allow the two of them time enough alone that Francis could pry the problem out of him. Mr Wang certainly wasn't helping matters, forcing Arthur to work shift after shift after shift at his multiple restaurants: he better knock it off before the new term started, or Francis was going to have to have words with him.

Between the five of them, the lions share of the moving was done within the day, just the particulars and the boys room left (they were going to let the twins unpack themselves, so they would feel more at home), so that night the group sat around the freshly furnished lounge, pizza and beer abound, bitching and complaining at Francis.

"You think pizza and beer's gonna do it?" Gilbert joked "Next time I need to move a piano up a flight of stairs, you're tagged in!"

"I'm more likely to need a piano moved." Lizzie pointed out "Speaking of which, what are you doing next week?"

"I could use some tables moved at the restaurant." Antonio agreed.

"Ha ha yes, very funny." Francis played along "I'll give you all free haircuts, okay?"

"Two short-back-and-sides and one trim." Lizzie snorted "Don't stretch yourself, Mr Generosity!"

I'll have you know Antonios curly hair takes a lot of work!" Francis defended "And your split ends could use it!"

A deep chorus of 'oooo' resonated in the room. A certain voice, however, was conspicuously absent, and all four others turned to the silent Arthur, who stared at the pizza in his hand impassively. When he continued not to notice them, their concern grew.

"Earth to space cadet!" Antonio called, to yet again no reaction.

"OI!" Gilbert shrieked loudly, startling Arthur into the here-and-now by sheer volume alone.

Rather than snapping as anyone would expect, Arthur silently stood, marched out of the room and up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door shut. The other three looked at Francis expectantly.

"What the fuck?" Lizzie asked.

"What's wrong with him?" Antonio asked.

"He's majorly not himself." Gilbert agreed "I got a punch in the mouth last time I did that."

"I don't know." Francis admitted, staring after Arthur "He won't talk to me."

"I thought there was a lack of yelling today." Lizzie recalled.

"You think it's the move?" Antonio supposed "He's acting like Romano when he first came to live with me."

"No." Francis reasoned "It was too sudden. Something happened."

"With Ivan?"

"I don't know... I hope not." Francis sighed "I'm hoping he'll open up soon – this is driving me nuts."

* * *

Ivan was exhausted. With the final year of uni coming up, Mr Wang had decided to give him a head-start over the others in his course by using the summer to give him actual hands-on experience at managing his businesses, and while he was thankful for the opportunity, it was absolutely gruelling! He definitely had a better appreciation for his sister, doing all this while still taking care of him and Natalya – late nights, tedious paperwork, problem after problem after problem... UGH! Oh well, at least it was going to get easier with practice – with Mr Wang he at least had a little safety net if he did something wrong (he wouldn't punish him too badly unless he really screwed up), he couldn't imagine how he'd be freaking out having to work like this for someone he didn't know! Despite his anxieties, people weren't shy about telling him how well he was doing, including Katyusha!

Putting his pen down, he sighed and stretched. It was already 2am, but the entertainment business didn't really get going until the sun set anyway. On the plus side, it meant he didn't have to get up early in the morning (he always hated that), but it did put a serious damper on how much time he could spend with Arthur. He supposed that it would be pretty much the same when they were married, except he would be able to go home and crawl into the bed beside him at the end of the night, every night.

He smiled at the thought – he was looking forward to it, actually. It wasn't like their set-up now, hopping from one place to the other depending on where they were in the day. No 'my place' and 'his place' or 'are you staying at such-and-such place tonight?', but 'their place' every night, because that would be their house, that they owned, where they cooked and ate their meals, where they slept and where they... where they raised their children.

He was still getting used to that idea. He had never envisioned children in his future with Arthur – it had always been the two of them – but he had made his feelings on the matter pretty clear. Arthur wanted to be a father, and if that's what he wanted, Ivan was going to make it happen. It was going to be more difficult for them to adopt than if one of them had been a woman (but then they wouldn't be adopting anyway), but there was no reason they should be refused – Ivan had a good job, they'd be married and have their own home when they applied, there was no history of mental illness and neither of them used drugs or even drank all that often: they were pretty much ideal candidates.

Ivan wanted girls, though. He had had quite enough of boys with the twins.

He considered giving Arthur a call before remembering what time it was. He was working at the new café on the waterfront during the day, rather than working late into the night at the Chinnaty club like he used to – Ivan would never tell him, but he was the reason for that – he couldn't stand the idea of not being there to make sure drunken creeps didn't put their hands all over him, and told Mr Wang as much. He had immediately switched him to a day shift, where the likelihood of getting groped by drunken losers was far less.

With another sigh and a stretch of his stiff shoulders, he picked up his pen and got back to work.

* * *

Gilbert waited on the low wall, keeping his eye on the path ahead. He had thought Francis had been upset lately – he attributed it to the move, but seeing the way Arthur behaved yesterday, he was absolutely certain that was the reason. He had known Arthur since he was seven years old, seen him grow from a moody little boy to a grumpy young man. His father abandoning him after the divorce hadn't upset him, his coming out as gay was a bigger deal to Francis than Arthur, but now... something was seriously upsetting him, and he knew Francis would be too worried about upsetting him further to really probe as to what the problem was. Gilbert was going to have to take that blow.

Sure enough, Arthur appeared at the top of the street, stomping along with the look of a child who hadn't studied for an exam he was running late for, marching as quickly as he could whilst obviously not wanting to go at all. He spotted Gilbert, stopping only to grimace. Gilbert hopped off the wall as he got close.

"Good morning, sunshine!" he teased.

"Piss off." was his response.

"You're always so cheery in the morning." Gilbert went on.

"What do you want, Gilbert?"

Arthur actually stopped. Taking a moment to really inspect him, Gilbert noticed he looked pale, withdrawn, and actually miserable rather than just grumpy – he was more concerned now than before, even as Arthur started to glare at him.

"On your way to work?" he asked.

"Where else would I be going?" Arthur groaned.

"When do you start?"

"Why?"

"I wanna tell you about this thing that happened."

"Tell Francis." Arthur spat, starting on his way again.

Without missing a beat, Gilbert followed, his long legs keeping pace easily.

"You know my brother, right?" he went on.

"Yes."

"Well, he's been acting really squirrelly lately: he didn't eat, was reading all these weird books, he jumped every time the phone rang. It was weird."

"That's super, Gilbert."

"So I said to Gramps, 'leave this to me!' And I took him aside one day and I asked him 'Luddy, bro, what's up? You've not been yourself, man! You're making your awesome brother worry and everything!' So Luddy breaks down crying, right there in the kitchen – you've seen how brawny he's gotten lately, right? - and he says to me 'Gilbert, I think I might be gay!' And I'm like, 'is that all? That's nothing to get upset about!'"

"Is there a point to this story?" Arthur spat.

"My point," Gilbert insisted "Is that he was struggling with this all on his own, when he didn't even have to. Luddy may still be coming to terms with his sexuality, but just the fact that Gramps and I know about it has really helped him – he's not so moody and eats properly and all that jazz."

"I'm not seeing your point."

Gilbert stopped in front of Arthur, forcing him to stop. Gilbert was just taller enough that Arthur had to look up to glare at him.

"We all know something's wrong." he said bluntly "Even the twins can see it. Whatever it is, it's not as bad as you're making it out."

"Fuck off, Gilbert."

Arthur went to push past him, but Gilbert wasn't going to relent.

"Worrying on your own isn't going to change anything."

"You don't know shit." Arthur growled.

"I know enough."

Arthur turned right around, but Gilbert was quicker, standing in front of him again.

"Piss off!"

"Play hooky with me."

"What?"

"Don't go to work – come play with me today. Even if you don't want to talk to me about what's bothering you."

"Why the fuck would I do that?" Arthur snapped "It's more trouble than it's worth, and I don't even like you that much!"

"That's the spirit!" Gilbert sang, grabbing Arthurs hand and proceeding to pull him down the road.

"Oi!"

"We have to avoid your boss, so how about we go into the city?" he suggested "There's this new shop I've been wanting to check out!"

Gilbert continued to talk as he pulled Arthur to his car, parked conveniently at the end of the street. He understood in that moment the meaning of the phrase 'silence is telling' - he knew from experience that if Arthur didn't want to go somewhere, he screamed and fought with his whole being, but today he followed Gilbert without so much as a word, not even trying to pull his hand away. Something was very wrong. He swore, on all the years he had been friends with Francis, that he was going to find out.

* * *

Francis was rearranging the kitchen - good old Toni had set it up like a restaurant kitchen, not a home kitchen. It was a subtle difference, and he was hoping his friend wouldn't notice he had moved things around - he'd blame the twins if he did. The boys would be coming around after their clubs were over tomorrow evening, bringing a whole box of toys each to settle in, so Francis wanted everything ready. He was a little annoyed that Arthur had gone to work when there was so much to do here still, but he supposed he didn't have too much choice. He startled a little as the phone rang.

"Francis, is everything okay?" the caller asked immediately.

"Mr Wang?"

"Who else would it be?" he replied curtly.

"Is there some kind of problem?" Francis asked, already guessing from the old mans tone that he wasn't going to enjoy this conversation.

"That's what I'm asking! Arthur hasn't shown up for work yet!"

Francis checked his watch and sighed.

"It's only been a couple of minutes - I'm sure he's on his way."

"It's not like him to be late." Mr Wang noted "And he's not answering his phone!"

Mr Wang had called him already? His shift had started less than five minutes ago: it was going to take more than that for Francis to become concerned.

"If he hasn't shown up in half an hour, call me then." Francis suggested, putting the phone down before Mr Wang could argue, fearing he might put his brothers job in jeopardy if he was forced to talk to him too long.

Although... it wasn't like Arthur to be late... Francis checked his mobile, but he had no messages. He slipped it into his pocket just in case before going back to work.

* * *

The city was bustling with the energy of summer, bright and busy everywhere you looked. With very little prompting, Arthur had bought himself a new set of clothes so he didn't have to walk around in his work uniform, discarding his bag in Gilberts boot.

"If you can honestly look me in the eye and tell me this isn't completely adorable, I will lose all respect for you."

"It's very cute." Arthur agreed "But why do you want to dress Delilah up as a daffodil?"

"What do you mean, 'why'?"

Somehow in their loitering, the two had ended up in a massive toyshop, and Gilbert had immediately gone for the costumes.

"Don't tell me you didn't dress the twins up when they were babies." he challenged.

"Not even once." Arthur insisted.

"I have photographic evidence that proves otherwise. Alfred was a teddy bear and Matthew was a cowboy... Or was it the other way around?"

"That was Francis' doing." Arthur recalled "I take no responsibility for it."

Gilbert snickered, going back to the rack of costumes.

"It's not too late." he teased "Matty would still make a good teddy."

"I will personally punch you in the nuts if you try it."

Arthurs phone went off again, playing the emperors theme from star wars. He shifted awkwardly as he ignored it, focusing on the costumes. Gilbert could guess who it was calling, but said nothing.

"I need coffee." he announced "Let me buy this stuff and we'll find a cafe."

Ten minutes later, the two sat on a bench in the park, sipping coffee and eating bagels as they watched the people go by.

"When you said you had a shop you wanted to go to, I thought you meant clothes or books or housewares." Arthur admitted "I didn't think you wanted to go toy shopping. Is Delilahs birthday coming up?"

"No." Gilbert admitted, mouth full of bagel "I don't need no excuse to spoil my god daughter!"

"She's going to like you more than her father." Arthur noted with a chuckle before coming to a realisation "That's the point, isn't it?"

"Maybe."

"You're awful."

"Awfully awesome!"

Arthurs phone went off again, this time blaring Madame Butterfly into the park, causing Gilbert to burst out laughing.

"Oh my god, whose ringtone is that?!" he cackled.

"It's Francis." Arthur admitted, fishing it out of his pocket.

Gilbert dived for it, startling Arthur as he landed squarely on his lap.

"Hey, honey!" Gilbert sang as he answered the phone, keeping Arthurs legs pinned below him "What are you wearing?"

"That explains a lot." Francis muttered immediately "Where are you, Gilbert?"

"What kind of kidnapper would I be if I just told you where I was?" he pointed out "Let's talk about the ransom, shall we?"

"Stop messing around." Francis grumbled "Arthur should be at work. What's going on?"

"Maybe something, maybe nothing."

"You're pissing me off now. Let me talk to Arthur."

"Get off my lap, Gilbert."

"Arthur's not here." Gilbert sang again "I'll do my best to return him later."

"What?" Francis started, but Gilbert hung up on him before he could elaborate.

"My knees are going to sleep." Arthur moaned "Get up before I start shoving things down your pants."

Gilbert took a second to weigh his options - to tease or not to tease?

"You're thinking something dirty, aren't you?"

"Bitch, I might be."

"Get off my lap, Gilbert."

* * *

Yao glared at his phone. Luckily he had been able to call Natalya in to cover Arthurs shift, but that wasn't the issue: his little angel was starting to misbehave, and that didn't bode well for his plans. He had to nip this rebelliousness in the bud quickly. Making sure his little doll could cope on her own for a moment, he ducked into the back room and pulled out his phone again.

* * *

"Dodge, dodge!"

"I'm trying, you bastard!"

"Try harder! 'A' button, 'a' button!"

"Shut up!"

They were by far the oldest people in the arcade, and considering they also had bags full of toys and costumes, they looked more than a little suspicious. Arthur mashed the buttons on the machine as Gilbert stood to his right, yelling in his ears.

"You're gonna die!"

"Shut up!"

He died. Arthur swore loudly and kicked the machine.

"It's rigged." he complained.

"You just suck at it."

"I do with you screaming at me."

"Sore loser."

"Jerk."

Gilbert just cackled, pulling Arthur over to the DDR machine.

"A deal's a deal." he teased "I'm going to kick you arse on this on."

"Why am I not surprised you like the dancing game?"

"Because it's awe-"

Arthurs phone went off again, and Gilbert felt him go stiff as 'Call Me Maybe' filled the air. Who could that be? Arthur immediately pulled his hand back and fished his phone from his pocket.

"Hey, Ivan!" he greeted nervously "What's up?"

Gilbert watched Arthurs face. All the colour drained as he spoke to his finance, and he seemed to physically shrink, covering the mouthpiece with his hand to block the noise of the arcade.

"No, no, I'm not sick." he assured "I just needed a day off, that's all... No, I'm not with anyone... I thought you'd be tired, you're working so late these days... I appreciate that, but... No, nothing like that... I haven't had a day off all month!... That's not what I'm saying!... I don't give a shit what he thinks!... Iv... Will you listen to me?!"

Gilbert had heard enough. He grabbed Arthurs phone and hung up on Ivan.

"Oi!"Arthur shrieked "What did you do that for?! Like your little day-trip isn't going to cause me enough trouble already!"

"Is Ivan beating you?"

"Wh... what?! NO!"

Noticing they were drawing stares, Gilbert grabbed his bags and dragged Arthur from the arcade. He spied an alleyway to the side of the building and pulled him down, pinning him to the wall, throwing his bags down between Arthurs legs and the alley exit.

"Alright, I lied." he admitted "I never had any intention of letting today go by without you telling me what's going on with you – I was going to wait until you were nice and relaxed, but fuck it. What's with the kowtowing, Arthur? You say he's not beating you, but I can tell something's up! Is he being abusive some other way? Is he cheating on you?"

"Ivan's not done anything!" Arthur yelled defensively "And I seriously resent your implications!"

Arthur went to push Gilbert away, but he grabbed the smaller man by both shoulders and pushed him back against the wall. He went to berate him further, but was shocked into silence when the blonde physically shrunk in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut and turning his head away from Gilbert like he was expecting something terrible to happen. What...? If his Lizzie had ever pulled such an expression, Gilbert would literally murder Roderich with his bare hands. A frigid wave rolled over his whole body. Slowly, he took his hands off Arthurs shoulders and took a step back. Actually shaking, a look of shame and embarrassment crossed Arthurs face as he slowly opened his eyes to look at Gilbert.

"I won't judge." Gilbert promised seriously "I won't even tell anyone if you don't want me to, but don't you dare tell me nothing's wrong. We're not going home until you talk to me."

* * *

Yao waited, arms crossed sternly over his chest, as Arthur climbed out of the idiots car. The sun was setting, the dinner shift starting, and Arthur was very, very late. His green eyes openly glared at him as he approached the staff entrance.

"You called Ivan." he accused.

"You left me no choice – you didn't show up and you weren't answering your phone: I was worried about you."

"Worried my arse." Arthur muttered.

Yao eyed Gilberts car as he pulled away, huffing as he drove off around the corner.

"He's a bad influence on you." he announced "You were 16 the last time you skipped work - playing hooky isn't something a grown man does."

"Whatever."

Arthur went to move past him to the door, but Yao grabbed him, and not by the shoulder. He gave the tender area a squeeze as he spoke.

"Last time you played hooky I made you clean out my gutters." he reminded him "Imagine what I'm going to make you do when your shift ends tonight."

Arthur was rendered immobile by Yaos grip, which he enjoyed immensely. He released him finally, taking a moment to caress his inseam before letting him get to work. As the door slammed behind him, he sighed and chewed on his tongue, watching the road where the car had disappeared. He hadn't factored the idiot into his plans. He didn't like Gilbert. Neither did Ivan. Perhaps Ivan could be persuaded to not like him a little more.

Taking a moment to adjust his hair and straighten his shirt, he went back into the building.

Had he been more observant that night, he would have noticed the figure walking down the road towards the restaurant, who stopped in shock when they noticed the wandering hands of the respectable local business owner, and the young man whose whole body went rigid at his touch. The figure, hidden by the shadows of twilight, swore under their breath, turning on their heels and fishing their phone from their pocket.

* * *

My tablet crashed at the last hurdle, so I had to rewrite end ending. Luckily I didn't lose too much, so it didn't take too long to rewrite. (Although it was too hours...).

So, how much has Arthur told Gilbert? What will he do with the knowledge? Who was the figure in the shadows, and what does it mean for poor beleaguered Arthur?! Please look forward to the next chapter... eventually...


	13. Chapter 13 On Your Side

Got this one done faster, I'm happy to say. I'm thinking of going back to shorter chapters so I can update after, like I did in 'Mine' and 'Sometimes...' - anyone who read those, which type do you prefer?

So many typos in the last one, but I was just sick of it by the end... sorry.

So, who was watching? What will Gilbert do? What will Yao do? Answered revealed? Hehehe...

* * *

**On Your Side**

Delilah was an adorable daffodil. Uncle Gilbert had liberated her from her useless father and tired mother to his place for the night – she was old enough to know that all the brightly coloured things in his room were for her, but young enough that the packaging was just as fascinating as the contents. She sat on Gilberts lap, examining a fluffy stuffed sheep and burbling words from her limited vocabulary while he stared at her absent mindedly, trying to get his head around the day.

He had to tell Francis... and yet he couldn't. He had to get Wang to stop, but how? He was one of the most powerful businessmen in town, no-one employed more people than him. No wonder Arthurs mood was so foul – he was completely stuck. Gilbert tried to imagine the situation, but just couldn't – the only older man he had ever looked up to was his grandpa, maybe Lizzies dad too, but no-one like Wang. He could remember how nice the old man had been to Arthur and Ivan when they were kids, acting even as a de fact father to both of them... how betrayed must Arthur have felt? How long had Wang been planning this? Gilbert couldn't think about it – it was too much.

He fed and gave Delilah a bath before putting her down for the night – an unnerved shiver ran down his spine as the thought occurred: when Delilah grew up, always having known her loving Uncle Gilbert, her own de facto father, only for him to suddenly pursue a romantic relationship with her, even against her will... it made his stomach turn. Was it different because Arthur was male? It shouldn't be, but somehow it felt like it was, but he couldn't put his finger on why.

He had never liked Ivan. Well, that's a little harsh: he had never liked Ivan _as Arthurs boyfriend. _When the two of them had been friends as kids, he hadn't minded Ivan, but he started to grate on Gilberts nerves when they started dating. He wasn't good enough for Arthur: too quiet, too strange, too narrow. He didn't like it. He couldn't tell Arthur that, of course – Francis had all but begged him not to. If he had, perhaps Arthur wouldn't be in this situation now, stuck between a rock and a hard place.

He sighed deeply, watching his little daffodil sleep. He wanted to break old Yaos hands. It was a strange contradiction. He knew he was going to have to take this one on the cheek. He left Delilahs side, crossing the room to his chest of drawers where his mothers music box stood on the clean and polished top, ceremonially caressing the top of it with his pale, thin fingers.

_You'll never know what you did for me. And you'll never know I'm paying you back._

* * *

Arthur watched the clock, stomach turning. The end of his shift was approaching – Yao never laid a hand on him when he was on the clock, but the very second the minute hand ticked over, it was open season for him. He wanted to run away. He thought he was fast enough, but somehow Yao was always faster, smarter, slyer. He wanted to cry. And yet, it could still be worse – thus far, he had been able to keep his underwear on... thus far...

His heart sunk as Natalya walked in for he start of her shift – punctual as always.

"Afternoon, Arthur." she greeted in her usual manner, torn between liking Arthur and hating her brothers boyfriend.

"Afternoon." he grumbled back.

Taking a moment to make sure he wasn't too busy with the customers, Natalya pulled a concerned face.

"You look terrible." the pretty lady pointed out "Is everything okay? You and Ivan didn't fight again, did you?"

"Nothing like that." he assured her.

Without missing a step, she placed her palm on his forehead to check his temperature, pulling a face when he chuckled.

"I'm not sick, pumpkin." he swore.

"Then what's with that face?"

The door to the café swung open again, drawing both their attention, and the young lady immediately grimaced.

"Never mind." she muttered.

Patrick and Angus entered the café, obviously looking for their brother. Natalya, somewhat familiar with the Kirkland family history, set herself on the floor between them, back to the brothers.

"Looks like we got here right on time!" Patrick said by way of greeting "End of the shift, Arthur?"

"Not yet." Natalya spat.

"I'm not waiting on you." Arthur told them immediately.

"If we wanted that, we would have come in earlier." Patrick chuckled "We've got plans, god-father!"

"Say what?" Natalya asked defensively, turning toward them very slightly.

"On this most prestigious of days, our wee Bern, one Peter Kirkland, is officially 3 months old!" Patrick declared "We gather upon the riverside this fair afternoon in celebration!"

"Piss off, Patrick."

"Seriously, though." Angus laughed, smacking his pontificating little brother playfully over the head "Peter is 3 months old today. The doctor told us that he's officially no longer in the danger zone – he's got a good heart, thank god."

"Oh," Arthur offered "That's great."

His brother was visibly exhausted, pale with dark bags under his eyes, dressed quite shabbily next to the good doctor. Even as he smiled, he exuded exhaustion.

"We're having a picnic nearby." he went on "We'd love it if you'd join us, Arthur."

Before he could reply, Yao appeared from the back office, probably wondering why the reliable Natalya was now running late. He immediately pulled a face upon seeing the elder Kirkland boys, marching onto the shop floor.

"Natalya, don't let these fools make you late for work." he instructed "Be out here in three minutes."

"Right." she grumbled, going into the back room to change into her uniform.

Yao immediately took her place, crossing his arms over his chest sternly as he stood between the brothers.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

"It doesn't concern you." Angus answered just as abruptly.

The two stared each other down. Patrick took the opportunity to take a step forward, spinning Arthur around on his feet.

"Shift over!" he reminded him "Time to play! Go get changed!"

"What?" Arthur was immediately annoyed "Stop shoving, you prick!"

"You want to walk abound town in a pink shirt?" he teased "You just know Peter's going to throw up on you if you keep wearing your uniform."

"But-"

"Play with us, play with us~"

"Shut the hell up!" Arthur almost yelled before remembering where he was, feeling his cheeks blazing.

"Oi!" Yao protested "Stop accosting my staff! Arthurs shift may be over, but that doesn't mean he's free to play!"

"That's exactly what it means." Angus growled in disagreement.

"If you want us to stop embarrassing you, get changed." Patrick suggested quietly in Arthurs ear before giving him another shove into the back room.

He reappeared in his civvies less than two minutes later, immediately grabbed once again by the good doctor while Angus and Yao glared each other down. Ten minutes later, he sat on a blanket at the riverside with his brothers and sister-in-law, where little Peter was immediately put in his arms to stare at him and burble.

"Where are the boys today?" Meredith asked as her husband wrapped his jacket around her shoulders.

"Matthew's at scouts camp, Alfred has a tournament in the city." he told them.

"Those are both solid pursuits!" Owen piped up, obviously happy that he had something to contribute to the conversation "That'll be the under 12's at Hetalia City Stadium? Alfred's gonna have the time of his life!"

Arthur just glared at him. Feeling the tension, he shut up, busying himself with a cheese and watercress sandwich. Patrick laughed to break the air.

"How's Matthew liking scouts?" he asked "I bet he's making lots of friends!"

"Yeah, he's liking it." Arthur confirmed "He keeps dragging me into the garden to show me things he's learned. Alfreds grades seemed to be improving too, somehow."

"Let me guess," Patrick interrupted "Maths and science, right?"

"...Yeah..."

Patrick smirked in a self satisfied way, laughing through his nose. Angus shook his head at him, but also smiled.

"Unlike you Neanderthals, I hope Peter will be good at the humanities." Meredith admitted "I can't wait for the first piece of finger painting to go on the fridge."

"We've cleared a space." Angus agreed "It's gonna stay blank until his first scribble."

"'Drawning', dear."

"I said what I meant."

Like all newborns, Peter was growing at a flabbergasting rate, now with the healthy pink skin and bright glazed eyes of all the other blonde babies – to Arthurs amusement, the tot was even starting to sprout the thick dark eyebrows synonymous with the Kirkland line. Meredith, however, was a different story – she had lost weight, and she hadn't had much to begin with, her skin pale and increasingly sallow looking, dark bags under her eyes like she hadn't slept since Peter had been born. Arthur didn't have to be a doctor to know she was sick. She held herself stiffly, leaning almost entirely on Angus, who had one side of his broad torso behind her back at all times. They were both clearly tired, but she... she wasn't right...

Arthur didn't really want to sit here at the amusement of his brothers – he was grateful to them for rescuing him from the end of his shift (not that he would ever say that), but spending his afternoon with them wasn't a fabulous alternative.

"So Ivan proposed?" Meredith clarified.

"So to speak." Arthur confirmed "He didn't go down on one knee or anything, but we are engaged."

"Hate to say I told you so." Patrick laughed.

"Then don't." Angus scolded playfully.

"So which of you has the ring?" Owen wondered aloud, staring at the sky as he took a sip from his coke "It's usually the woman...?"

"It's usually the proposee that gets the ring, rather than the proposer." Meredith figured "Did you get a ring, Arthur?"

"I'm not that big on rings." he admitted "I'll wear the wedding ring, but I don't really like the feel of them."

"I know what you mean." his sister-in-law agreed "I kept having to take my engagement ring off for work – you know how little kids are – in the end I just wore it around my neck."

"A painful compromise." Angus whined "Every time I saw her hand without it, I thought she had changed her mind."

"You're silly." Meredith chuckled, which her husband responded to by kissing her on top of the head.

The picnic, indeed the entire afternoon passed in seemingly the blink of an eye, surprising Arthur in particular. As evening wore on, they invited him back to Patricks place on the other side of the river for dinner: his first instinct was to say no, but with Ivan working late he reconsidered, which pleased his brothers to no end.

"Have you ever seen the teeth of a prehistoric giant shark?" Patrick asked him as they bundled into Angus' car.

* * *

Mr Wang was clearly upset – had something happened? Ivan was up to his eyes in paperwork, and his bosses marching too and fro was distracting at best, exacerbated by the fact Ivan knew him as a person to tackle problems head on, not wear the carpet out thinking about them. The older man bought him a tray of cookies, sitting in the chair opposite him for maybe 30 seconds before getting up again and bringing him a glass of milk, sitting for another 20 seconds before marching into the club for 2 minutes, returning empty handed and sitting again.

"Why haven't you eaten your cookies?" he barked impatiently "You think I make them to be looked at?"

He got up again before Ivan could answer, going to his desk and rifling through the drawers for 30 seconds before returning empty handed once again, sitting down with a huff and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Is something wrong?" Ivan asked before he could jump up again.

Yao chewed on his tongue, tapping his fingers against his arm before sighing in aggravation.

"I'm worried about Arthur." he admitted without looking at him.

"Arthur?" Ivan clarified, interest immediately piqued.

The older man sighed again, tone and posture softening as he looked at him.

"You know how easily Arthur is influenced." he elaborated "His adolescence was a nightmare: I don't usually hire people so young, but he fell in with the wrong people so easily..."

"He's falling in with the wrong people?" Ivan asked, chest tightening in jealousy at his own imagination "He's made some new friends?"

"If only it were so simple." Yao sighed again "'New' people can be easily removed. I thought I was helping you save for your wedding this summer, I never imagined... Arthur hates being alone, I gave him so many shifts so he wouldn't be lonely without you..."

Ivan waited for him to finish, blood beginning to boil – it was true, Arthur was easily influenced, especially by those close to him, and it had caused him trouble in the past: Ivan had had to steer more than one bad influence away from him in years gone by. Those close to Arthur would know this... a clever person could manipulate him... but to what end? Ivan wouldn't let it happen, regardless. Even if it was one of the twins, he would remove them. His boss seemed to pick up on his upset, stroking his clenched fist like he was a moody child.

"Calm down, Ivan." he bid "You weren't to know – people like Gilbert, they-"

"Gilbert?" he interrupted "That rat-eyed runt?"

Yao nodded sadly.

"He was the one who convinced Arthur not to come to work the other day." Yao confessed "It's so unlike Arthur to do a thing like that, I was seriously worried, but knowing it was Gilbert... it all makes sense..." he sighed again, shaking his head "I just can't think what he wants, though. Why is he trying to lead Arthur down a bad path, why..."

Yao seemed to come to a realisation, eyes clouding with thought.

"Perhaps... ?"

"Perhaps?" Ivan asked when he didn't continue.

His boss looked at him, eyes serious.

"Do you remember when Elizavetta got married?" he asked "Gilbert went off the deep end, did some real crazy things. And now Arthur's getting married, perhaps..." he trailed off again, shaking his head "No, he was in love with Elizavetta... but then why?"

He let go of Ivans hand, propping up his head as he gazed into the distance in his mind. Ivan hadn't seen Gilberts breakdown for himself, but he had heard about it – word has it he was a broken man until Delilah was born... Various friends and acquaintances had married since, so his issue wasn't with weddings, per say, so... he had known Arthur for a very long time, what with being Francis friend... Arthur was the first person he got handsy with when he was drunk... he couldn't... could he? Wasn't he still in love with Lizzie?

"With Francis being Gilberts friend, I don't think we can trust him to be on our side." Yao thought "But between the two of us, I think we can make sure Gilbert doesn't mess up Arthurs life like he has his own. If only..." he huffed "If I were a young man, I'd talk to Gilbert myself, warn him off... but I'm not a young man, and Gilbert is far stronger than me now... I'll have to do what I can without confronting him directly." he looked up Ivan through is dark lashes "You understand? We have to work together on this."

Ivan nodded. He understood perfectly. Yao, despite his baby face, was too old to confront a man in the prime of his youth. Ivan wasn't, and it was his wife Gilbert was trying to steal. He couldn't tell his boss what he was thinking – he'd only try to talk him out of it.

"You take care of Arthur when I'm working." Ivan agreed "As soon as I'm finished, I won't let him out of my sight."

Yao finally smiled, clearly relieved.

"We'll handle this." he agreed as he stood again, this time far more calmly "Even if the whole world is setting Arthur up to fail, we'll take care of him."

He ruffled Ivans hair as he passed him on his way to the door.

"He's lucky to have you." were his parting words as he left Ivan alone to his paperwork, and more importantly, his planning.

* * *

As the office door clicked closed, Yao smiled to himself. Gilbert was as good as gone. Those idiot Kirkland boys were next, but considering Arthurs animosity towards his brothers, they would be easy enough to deal with on his own. The twins he could wrap around his finger, just as he had done Ivan and Arthur as children... Francis would be the difficult one. Difficult, but not impossible. He whistled to himself as he returned to the bar.

* * *

Arthur couldn't quite believe his eyes: Patrick, and a group he assumed were his colleges, had set up a nest of text and notebooks across three of the cafés tables, looking very comfortable as they ordered coffee and snacks. His older brother introduced him with great enthusiasm to the gathering, going so far as to claim he was a magic angel who cast spells to keep Peter alive – the whole group burst into laughter when Arthur hit him over the head with the coffee pot.

It seemed the doctors were working on a paper of some kind, and had chosen to gather here instead of the library or one of their places because... because...?

"It was your brothers idea." one of the women admitted as Arthur bought her a pastry "I think he wanted to show you off."

Yao was clearly furious, fuming at the group from behind the counter. The prices were written on the large blackboard behind him, so he couldn't even overcharge them for their inconvenience. Despite his annoyance, the doctors did order a steady stream of drinks and munchies as they worked, sometimes in silence, sometimes a wrong word away from a raging row. When Arthurs break came around Patrick immediately pounced on him, pulling him practically into his lap and bragging about him to his amused friends. Yao grew more livid as the hours passed, especially as the group – for the most part – were the only customers they had had that day. The second Arthurs shift ended, Patrick packed up his books and the group took it as they cue to depart for the day, leaving a confused Natalya to wait on an empty café.

To his further surprise, Owen pitched up at the same time, and the two of them took him to a movie before treating him to dinner (fast food, but a treat was a treat).

The third day, Arthur was starting to suspect something – with ten minutes to go until the end of his shift, Owen showed up, enthusing about how Alfreds football team had made it to the semi-finals (ruining the childs triumphant phone call later in the evening), taking him to Angus' house for a semi-final celebration.

On the fourth day... what the hell was going on? Angus and Meredith turned up an hour before his shift ended, very obviously waiting for him to finish – she had a hospital appointment later on, and they wanted him to hold Peter while the two of them were in the doctors office. Seriously? I mean... seriously? Arthur was smart enough to know that his siblings were up to something, but he couldn't put his finger on what. He humoured the two of them, but the appointment didn't take all that long, leaving Peter in Arthurs hands less than 15 minutes before reappearing, taking him back to their place to make him dinner and show off the babys playroom.

On the fifth day, spine tingling in paranoia, he kept his eyes on the door, but none of his brothers turned up. After 4 days without his favourite toy, Yao was beside himself, barely able to keep his hands to himself, but forced to by the steady stream of customers they had during the day. Picking up his bag at the end of the shift, he found text messages from all 3 brothers, Angus apologising for being busy with his wife and child, Owen for being busy with the summer sports camps and Patrick for being at work, all but begging him to meet him at his flat – even telling him where to find a spare key to his flat so he could let himself in. Returning to the shop floor, Arthur found his other three brothers – and Gilbert – were waiting for him.

"We're going to the movies!" Alfred declared as he grabbed his brothers hand "And then pizza! We're picking up Romano and Ozzy on the way!"

"We're having a party!" Matthew agreed enthusiastically.

"What's the occasion?" Arthur asked.

"Who needs one?" Gilbert reasoned "Isn't it a big brothers job to spoil his siblings?"

"And their friends?"

"Of course!"

Yao fumed silently as Arthur was hoisted away to yet another evening out of his grasp.

* * *

Arthur was panting, chest heaving, glowing in sweat as he laid on his back on the bed, arm covering his face. It had been a while since he and Ivan had had an evening together, perhaps he had gone too far. The large man regretted nothing however, relishing the taste of his sweat as he licked a trail from Arthurs belly button to his chin, drinking in his groans and gasps.

"I missed you, Arthur," he purred, more to himself than his fiancé.

"Missed me?" Arthur panted "I didn't go anywhere."

"Perhaps. But it feels like forever since I've seen you."

He dominated Arthurs lips, ribboning their fingers and holding his hand tightly. His pale skin was flawless – there was no sign of him being touched by anyone but Ivan, and he was... how to put this politely... Ivan could tell Arthur hadn't been with anyone else since the last time the two were together – his body was too honest, especially as the blond begged him to touch him more, a request he obliged more than happily.

Since his talk with Mr Wang the other day, Ivan seemed to be more busy then ever – perhaps that's because he was so keen to have some free time to confront Gilbert and keep Arthur away from him, that he seemed frustratingly short on time and energy. Monday was a bad day for business, so Ivan managed to get off early, finding Arthur hiding out at his flat on the campus to avoid his increasingly demanding older brothers. Ivan, not able to wait a moment longer, took him to the bedroom immediately, where the two stayed but for the time it took them to order a pizza and collect the delivery from the front door.

He would never admit it, but it was clear Arthur had missed Ivan just as much, constantly keeping his hands on his skin and not allowing him more than five metres away from him.

"I'm sorry I've been working so much." he apologised between kisses "I'm sorry I left you alone."

"It's not your fault." Arthur assured, brushing some of Ivans silver-blonde hair behind his ear "I know how much your job means to you, and it's only for the summer."

"It's not as important to me as you are." Ivan swore "I hate thinking how lonely you must be."

"I'm alright." he promised "Between work and my brothers, I haven't had much time to be lonely."

Well, that's annoying. The only brothers Arthur should be obliged to spend time with were the twins, and even then far less than he used to, since they weren't babies anymore. Why were the older ones still hanging around? Arthur was too soft on the bastards, they'd keep showing up if he didn't set them straight: things like christenings aside, enough already!

"Don't pull that face." Arthur teased.

"Sorry." he said again "But you know – if it ever gets too much, you don't have to hide here: you can go to Mr Wangs place. He knows how much you hate being alone so I'm sure he won't mind – you know he's got all kinds of books and movies if you just want a quiet afternoon."

Arthur pulled a face Ivan couldn't read, not looking him in the eye.

"It's plenty quiet at home." Arthur said quietly "I came here today because I wanted to see you. I wanted to remind myself why..."

"Why?"

It took a moment, but Arthur finally looked back at him, smiling sadly.

"I love you."

Ivans heart skipped a beat. Those bright green eyes sparkled gently, drawing him in. Oh, it was the simple things that got him.

"I love you too." he answered "More than you know."

* * *

"Gilbert... are you joking?!"

"I wish I was."

"But that's all kinds of illegal!"

The restaurant was closed, all customers and staff gone home for the night. Antonio and Lizzie stood in the kitchen with Gilbert – they had confronted him over his own change in behaviour, although he hadn't noticed it himself, and he had revealed the truth under duress. That being said, it felt good to get it off his chest.

"Have you told Francis?" Lizzie asked, having to lean on the stainless-steel counter to steady herself after the shock of his confession.

"How can I?" he responded "What can I say? 'Hey, Francis, your little brother is being molested, and possibly worse, by his boss, who's blackmailing him into silence. Oh, and he's also the most powerful man in town, by the way?'"

"No, I agree with Gilbert." Antonio mumbled darkly "We can't even go to the police – it's all 'he-said-she-said', and between the towns best employer and and just some punk kid, I know who the authorities will believe."

"Well, we have to do something!" Lizzie exacerbated "He's not just Francis' brother – he's our friend."

"I know that." Gilbert growled, arms crossed over his chest "But I don't know what I can do without making it clear that I'm interfering. Ivan and I aren't great friends, don't forget, I don't want to be in arms reach of him when the shit hits the fan." he sighed deeply "None of us can even begin to touch old Wang."

"We have other options." Lizzie said certainly "Wang is a big fish in a small pond – if we take Arthur somewhere else-"

"Take him where?" Antonio growled, cold glare on the floor "Everyone he knows is here, all his family, his university. He can't just pack up and go – he doesn't have the money or the connections. Where ever we take him, Wang will send Ivan to bring him back."

"What about Grandpa? Won't he believe us?"

"He may," Gilbert sighed "But he's retired, he doesn't hold much sway with the police anymore."

"Then we should talk to Ivan." Lizzie said certainly.

"We can't." Antonio knew.

"Why not?!"

Antonio didn't answer, just stormed out of the kitchen, not taking his glare off the floor, leaving Lizzie to look to Gilbert for her answer.

"It's like Arthur said." he sighed "Either he'll believe him or he won't, either way it will end badly."

"Then let it end badly." she said "It'll be easier for us to deal with."

"Think about what you're saying!" Gilbert nearly yelled at her "How 'badly' do you think I'm talking about? You think everyone's just going to have a cry and move on – Ivan and Arthur don't have what I would call a healthy relationship, you really want to throw a match on that bonfire? Those two are a button-push away from a murder-suicide, and Ivan is the button!"

Lizzie was shocked into silence. Her eyes darted too and fro as she considered what he said.

"We need to tell Francis." she said certainly.

"We can't"

"_You_ can't."

Taking a cue from Antonio, Lizzie marched away, leaving Gilbert alone. He wanted to go after her, but he was so weary from the whole thing that his body wouldn't move. He was frustrated by his impotence – all he had been able to do was protect Arthur that one evening. He couldn't show up after his shift every day, if only for the sheer practical reasons. He had gone over in his mind a thousand ways for this to end, and none of them were good: he felt like he was struggling helplessly against the tide. He sighed again, rubbing this temple, and followed his friends from the kitchen.

* * *

Arthur bumbled down the stairs – the television was on in the living room, the twins sat with their cereal in their hands on the sofa while Francis pottered about in the kitchen. Arthur, rather than getting his own cereal, took a bite of Alfreds, much to his horror – seriously, the boy looked like he was going to cry.

"Arthur, tea or coffee?" Francis called from the kitchen.

"Tea."

"Toast?"

"Poptarts."

"Toast and Jam is the best I can do."

"Toast and Jam it is."

"Turn on the news a second, I want to hear the weather."

"Yeah, yeah."

The twins groaned theatrically as Arthur turned the channel from the cartoons to the news. Any protestations were silenced immediately as the news anchors voice filled the house:

"_Shock this morning in the small town of Hetalia, where local business owner Yao Wang was found brutally stabbed in his office in the early hours of the morning. Police are keeping quiet on the details, but initial reports suggest that no money was missing from the establishment, begging the question of why_-"

Arthur stopped listening. His whole body went cold, all thought leaving his mind. He didn't hear Francis dropping the mugs he was holding, Alfred exploding into a billion questions, or the phone ringing in the hallway.

* * *

Nothing was answered! Or was it? There are hints, for the more perceptive among you. It was inevitable that others were going to find out, but who exactly knows, and who was it that decided to do something about it? All I do is raise more questions...


	14. Chapter 14 Whodunnit

All the drama at the end of that last chapter! For those unfamiliar, 'whodunnit' is a colloquial term (slang) for a murder mystery or suspense piece, usually following the perspective of the police. I'm curious to know if peoples outside of England use this term too.

* * *

**Whodunnit.**

Yao Wangs siblings rallied spectacularly at the news of his attack; Kiku came back from Oxford University; Yong Soo cancelled his long awaited trip to Korea; Mei even flew back in from Paris. There had to be a dozen of them sorting out Yaos insurance, taking control of his businesses, sorting out rotas and keeping all his employees calm in his absence. Needless to say, everything was closed in the immediate aftermath of the incident, although his staff couldn't really consider it a holiday under the circumstances.

The Chinnaty Club, understandably, was closed. As he worked there most, Yong Soo was technically in charge now, but he was less than keen to step foot on the premises, even without the police tape over the entrance and his brothers blood staining the carpet. For Arthur, explaining the goings on to the twins was the hardest part – even the adults weren't quite sure what was happening, how could they explain it to the children?

The police had no leads. All the staff, without exception, were being questioned, which was a little awkward for policeman Vash, since Lily was still a waitress at the Chinnaty Club – needless to say, she was exonerated immediately. There was no money missing from the club, no sign of a break in. The only things missing were a handful of security tapes, and not only from the night in question. After balancing the books, Kiku confirmed that no embezzlement had gone on, so the police were at a loss to what the possible motive could have been. Influential and well beloved businessman Yao Wang had no enemies.

Arthur chewed on the end of his cigarette, his fourth that day, as he stared blankly at the television. The stress of everything going on was too much for Matthew, who had gotten quite sick, and currently had his head on his brothers lap as they watched cartoons, wrapped up in his duvet. Alfred had taken the opposite track, playing up in frustration of events he couldn't understand to the point that Patrick and Owen had taken him away for the week to get away from it all. Matthew had been invited to go, but clung to Arthur and Francis as rocks in a confusing time. Jeanne demanded that her adult sons return home immediately until the perpetrator had been caught, and it had taken Francis hours to convince her that they weren't in any danger.

"Arthur." Matthew called quietly "That smells really bad."

With a huff, he stubbed out the cigarette, immediately wanting to light another one. Luckily for them both, he had run out. Back in the kitchen, Elizavetta pottered about, going oddly maternal towards Arthur and the twins since the incident, taking care of the house and meals while Francis was at work, despite the fact Arthur was more than capable of doing both.

Ivan wasn't handling the situation well – the old man was like a father to him for one, and for the other he knew well that it could easily have been him in the office that night. He was one of the first to be questioned, but as no motive could be found – not to mention his future was pretty much dependant on being on the old mans good side – he was ruled out as a suspect.

They hadn't questioned Arthur yet. He didn't know what to say – telling the truth would make him suspect number one, but if he didn't tell the truth and they found out later it would be worse. He was losing sleep over it, not able to think of any way this would end in his favour. He didn't do it, and he didn't know who had – he didn't want to think that someone he worked with was capable of stabbing someone.

With a light knock on the open front door, Antonio crept in.

"Hey, evening." he greeted quietly "How's our little man feeling?"

"He's not asleep." Arthur informed him, patting the boys fluffy blond head "And there's not really any change."

"Aww."

The Spaniard knelt down in front of the sofa so he was the same level as the sick child, taking his pale hand.

"I bought you something tasty to eat." he told Matthew "My mother made it when she heard you were sick, so it's super good for you as well. Are you hungry now or do you want it later?"

Matthew shook his head, snuggling it a little further into Arthurs lap.

"I'm tired." he answered quietly.

"Okay, I'll put this in the fridge for you."

Antonio stood and joined Lizzie in the kitchen.

"You want to go to bed for a while?" Arthur asked.

"Will you read me a story?"

"Of course."

Matthew was getting a little big to carry, but Arthur couldn't help but spoil him a little while he was sick. He sat with the child maybe an hour, reciting what he could remember from Peter Pan in a low voice until Matthew fell asleep. He was tired himself, but his mind was still reeling so he couldn't relax. He left Matthews door ajar as he went back downstairs to find the living room full – Francis had returned home and bought Gilbert with him. Stood in the foyer was Vash, in full uniform, along with another policeman in glasses that Arthur had never met. Vash wore his usual displeased expression as he spied Arthur at the top of the stairs.

"Good evening, Arthur." he greeted.

"My turn, eh?" he sighed.

"Afraid so."

Arthur sighed again, resigned to getting it over with as he slunk down the stairs. He still didn't know what to say.

"This is Cameron." Vash introduced, gesturing to his partner "He's new in town, so be nice. Cameron, this is Arthur Kirkland – former delinquent, you'll only have to deal with him when he's drunk. He's mostly harmless."

"S... should you really be telling me that in front of him?" Cameron questioned.

Arthur couldn't help but laugh – Vash was the one that needed to be nice to him, it seemed: his sheer bluntness took a while to get used to.

"I hear your little brother is ill." Vash said as Arthur got to the bottom on the stairs "Do you need me to to send Lily over to look at him?"

"He doesn't cope well with stress." Arthur admitted "He'll be okay when this is all over."

"Alright. Do you have a place we can talk?"

Arthur gestured to the sofa. Cameron seemed surprised when the other four adults made no intention to move from the room.

"Get used to that." Vash suggested "One persons cold is everyones cold in Hetalia."

Lizzie sat herself in the armchair, Gilbert perching on the arm. Francis sat on the sofa with Arthur, Antonio standing behind them while Vash took up the other armchair, Cameron standing awkwardly at the side.

"We'll keep this short." Vash announced "Did you attack Yao Wang?"

"Oi!" Antonio immediately objected "There's such a thing as too blunt, you know!"

Cameron cleared his throat in agreement. Vash huffed and changed tack.

"Where were you three nights ago?" he asked.

"With Ivan." Arthur admitted.

"No surprise there." Vash sighed "All night?"

"Until about 4am."

Vash raised an eyebrow.

"What happened at 4am? Did you and Ivan have a fight?"

"Nothing like that." Arthur said immediately "I'm on the day shift right now and he's working lates, so he's used to being up all night. If I want any sleep before my shift I have to leave early."

Cameron made a note. Vash examined Arthur closely.

"Do you usually leave around 4am?" he asked.

"Usually earlier." Francis answered for him "He normally gets back around midnight."

"Uh-" Cameron started.

"They're brothers." Vash interrupted "So why did you leave late that night?"

"We resent your implications!" Antonio growled, putting his hands on Arthurs shoulders "You have some reason to suspect him, come out and say it!"

Vashs eyes went to Antonio, and the two stared each other down. Arthur could feel Antonios hands tense on his shoulders as he got more wound up. Vash didn't back down.

"Mr Wang was attacked at around 4.15 in the morning." he admitted, soliciting a horrible silence from the group "Ivans place is around a 15 minute walk from the Chinnaty Club, isn't it?"

"More or less." Arthur grumbled.

"The Chinnaty Club is a 25 minute walk from here." Francis interjected "Arthur got home around 4.30."

"That doesn't add up." Cameron pointed out.

"There's a a shortcut over the river." Vash told him "You can't get to the Chinnaty Club that way, but you can get from here to the campus quickly. There's a security camera on the end of the bridge, so we'll know soon enough how long it took you to get home. By the way, would you mind holding this a moment?"

Vash pulled a shaft out of his pocket – it was wrapped in plasticine. What the hell was it? Arthur reached for it, but Antonio pulled him back.

"If you want his prints, do it the proper way!" he barked.

"We have his prints." Vash pointed out "After that joyriding incident."

"They should have been expunged when he turned 18!"

"25." Gilbert interrupted, earning him a glare from Antonio.

"The previous Chief of Police – his grandfather – extended the deadline for juvenile offenders." Vash explained "And his finger prints would be useless to us anyway – he works there, we'd fully expect to find his prints."

"Then what's the deal with that?" Antonio demanded, gesturing to the shaft.

"Humour me." Vash requested.

Before Antonio could argue more, Arthur took the shaft, holding it for a moment. Vash openly examined him.

"You have surprisingly large hands." he mentioned.

He took the shaft from Arthur while Cameron made more notes.

"Forgive me for asking Vash, but what exactly _was _the point of that?" Francis asked.

"This is the same size as the handle of the weapon we recovered from the scene." he explained "Whoever's responsible has fairly small hands – we found the prints of a thumb and all four fingers on it, but they were too smudged to be useful."

"Should you be telling them this?" Cameron asked "We haven't eliminated him yet..."

"Arthur didn't do it." Vash said certainly "We're only here for formalities sake."

"With all due respect, you don't know that!" Cameron insisted.

"He's not smart enough to have removed the security tapes." Vash knew "His hands and feet are too large to fit with what he found at the scene."

"You're saying too much!" Cameron hissed.

"So it was a woman?" Lizzie interrupted.

"Possibly." Vash admitted, causing Camerons jaw to drop open in disbelief "Or a small man. Arthurs hands and feet are surprisingly large for someone of his size, but if it was a man he'd be around the same height."

Vash turned back to Arthur, and again he felt Antonios hands tighten on his shoulders.

"Do you work with anyone around the same height as you?" he asked "Perhaps shorter?"

Arthur thought a moment.

"Any of Mr Wangs siblings." he supposed "Except Yong Soo. Lots of women work for him, so I couldn't say-"

"Lily has smaller hands than him." Antonio pointed out "She has pretty fucking small hands."

Vash openly glared at him. Cameron made more notes, glancing between the two of them.

"One more question." Vash promised, finally taking his eyes off Antonio "For forms sake: do you have any reason to dislike Mr Wang?"

"Of course he doesn't." Antonio answered for him "Mr Wang's a good man, and he's done a lot for Arthur. There's no reason at all to suspect him."

Antonios attitude wasn't helping – if anything, he was making Arthur more tense. Vash, however, seemed satisfied, and led Cameron out fairly shortly. Arthur was somewhat relieved – if what Vash said was true, he had never been a suspect. He hadn't had to come clean about... about the whole situation. Antonio practically slammed the door closed behind the officers.

"Nice keeping a level head there." Francis criticised "Piss off the investigating officers, why don't you?"

"There's no evidence!" Antonio snapped "They shouldn't have been here in the first place!"

"They were here _because_ there was no evidence." Gilbert pointed out "It's just routine."

"It's bullshit."

"On the plus side, they've eliminated Arthur." Lizzie said.

"You don't actually believe that?" Antonio grumbled "You don't honestly think the size of his hands is enough to get him off?"

"Antonio, that's enough!" Francis snapped "You aren't helping!"

Antonio marched back over, grabbed one of Arthurs hands and measured it against his own.

"Fuck, you do have big hands." he grumbled "Bigger than mine."

"You said that doesn't prove anything." Lizzie reminded him sternly.

"Antonio, what's wrong with you?!" Francis demanded, getting to his feet and taking his friend by the shoulder "Why are you so wound up? Are you getting scared of being alone in restaurant at night?"

"No-one's got any reason to stab me." Antonio snapped, shrugging him off.

"You think someone had a _reason_ to stab Mr Wang?" Francis gasped, clearly taken aback.

A heavy, pregnant silence filled the space between them. Francis looked between his friends and brother, none of which looked him in the eye. Knowing which buttons to press, he turned to the wound up Antonio.

"Toni..."

"It's nothing." he snapped again "But... whoever did stab Wang... well, I don't blame them."

"You know something." Francis knew.

"I don't know nothing."

"You want me to get Vash back here?" Francis threatened "After that crack about Lily, I'm sure he'd love to cross examine you!"

"I didn't stab Wang!"

"Then why are you so upset?!"

"BECAUSE I WANTED TO SLIT HIS THROAT!"

Antonios green eyes were ablaze, glaring at the floor as his shoulders heaved in frustration. Francis could only gape at him in confusion, Lizzie and Gilbert suspiciously quiet. It didn't take Arthur long to figure out – Gilbert had told him, and judging by Lizzies non-reaction, he had told her as well. Arthur glared at him, but the albino was more concerned about Antonio.

"I was going to go." he admitted through gritted teeth, still staring at the ground "And I might have stabbed him if I had. I might have slit his throat and cut off his hands and displayed his head on a pike, but I didn't. I never got there." he took a deep breath, exhaling slowly "Romano had a bad dream... he has these terrible nightmares... He was crying, so... I couldn't leave. I fell asleep, and when I woke up it was too late – someone else got there first."

"But why, Toni?" Francis implored, taking his friends shoulder and spinning him around "I don't understand why. Was he bankrupting you? Was he trying to take the restaurant?"

"You think I'd stab a man over money?" Antonio grumbled "It's none of your business, Francis, so just stay out of it!"

"Of course it's my business!" Francis insisted "You're my friend, and there's something clearly wrong! Why won't you tell me?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does matter! A man has been stabbed!"

"It's more than he deserves!"

Lizzie stood suddenly, startling them all. She looked at them with serious eyes.

"A man's been stabbed." she repeated "He may yet die. The time for secrets is over – we can't handle this in isolation anymore."

She looked at Arthur, who couldn't help but jump a little under the hard stare.

"I heard Matthew shuffling around upstairs." she announced "Why don't you go see if he's okay?"

Arthur took the subtle kindness – he didn't want to be around for the talk, to hear his pathetic situation summed up for a third party. He left immediately, Lizzie closing the living room door behind him. He found Matthew coming out of the bathroom, wiping his eyes and yawning.

"Still sleepy?" he asked.

"My chest feels tight." he complained.

Arthur knelt down and checked his temperature – he was a little warm, his lavender eyes cloudy.

"Can you breathe okay?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Does it hurt bad?"

Matthew didn't answer, but pulled a pathetic face and put his arms around Arthurs neck.

"Can I sleep in your bed?"

Arthurs heart nearly exploded from how cute he was. He scooped him up and carried him into his room, tucking him under the sheets before wiping his fluffy hair out of his face.

"Do you want your bear?" he asked.

"Uh-huh."

"I'll go get it."

Arthur went to leave, but Matthew grabbed his hand and refused to let go. The big brother couldn't help but chuckle a little.

"You don't want you bear?" he teased.

Matthew just squeezed his hand.

"My chest hurts." he complained again "Can I have a hug?"

Arthur kicked off his slippers and lay down on the bed, putting a comforting arm around his belly (so as not to put any weight on his chest).

"When with Al be back?" the little boy asked.

"He'll be back on Thursday." Arthur promised "Knowing that brother of ours, he's going to bring you back all kinds of sweets and stuff."

"I don't want sweets." Matthew mumbled.

"You want another story?"

"'Kay."

"What kind of story?"

"A princess story."

"Okay. Once upon a time..."

* * *

The house was unpleasantly quiet. Arthur heard nothing from downstairs, and he wasn't sure if he liked that or not. Matthew had fallen asleep again, breathing lightly, but threatened to wake up if he tried to move his arm, trapping him on the bed. Not that he wanted to get up – he didn't want to face Francis, knowing what kind of face he would be pulling, looking at him like he was some pathetic creature.

When exactly had Gilbert told those two? Why had he told them? That being said, Arthur supposed it was inevitable: he had asked Gilbert not to tell Francis, but he said nothing about Lizzie and Antonio. He supposed it was only a matter of time. Everyone would know soon. He didn't want them to know. He wanted to curl up into a ball and forget it had ever happened. He shouldn't have told Gilbert – if he had waited just a week, the secret would have died with Yao when he was stabbed. Although he was still alive, but it was touch-and-go – men of his age didn't recover from trauma easily. He wanted him to die, and that knowledge killed a little piece of him. It was the only way this would be over.

The bedroom door opened. Arthurs back was to it, so he didn't see who it was. They stood there for a moment, just watching him, and he knew it had to be Francis. He was right – without a word, Francis walked over to the other side of the bed, kicked off his shoes and lay down on Matthews other side. Arthur couldn't look at him, concentrating on his little brothers sleeping face. He startled a little as when Francis touched his face, hooking a tuft of hair behind his ear, finally looking up at him. It was a difficult sight – he was pale, eyes bloodshot and pleading like he was begging Arthur to tell him it wasn't true. He looked back at Matthew. He heard Francis choke down a sob, palm shaking he he tangled his fingers in Arthurs hair.

* * *

"So all of you work for Mr Wang?" Cameron clarified.

"That's correct." Katyusha confirmed.

"That's not unusual." Vash told him "Mr Wang's the towns biggest employer, there are families with 3 generations that work for him. If you can't get a job with him or Nordics Frozen Foods, you can't get a job in Hetalia."

"Company town." Cameron muttered, making more notes.

"How's Natalya taking this?" Vash asked, sipping the coffee she had made for him.

"She's bereft." the lady admitted "This kind of thing just doesn't happen around here."

"Is it alright for us to question her?" he asked "She's technically a minor, so we can't question her without you or Ivan present."

Katyusha stole a look at Ivan – he sat slumped in the armchair, drink in hand, staring at the floor. He wasn't handling events well, and she was growing increasingly concerned. Natalya was no different – she rarely spoke, hardly ate, and locked herself in her room at any occasion.

"There's no need to question Natalya." she informed the officers "She was with Lily until late, then she came home – past her curfew. Our security system keeps track of when people activate and deactivate it, so I can give you the records if you need."

"That's not necessary." Vash assured "Lily told me very much the same. You handle the management of the entertainment chain, don't you?"

"I handle the restaurants and catering." she confirmed "But not the entertainment venues."

"So you don't manage the Chinnaty Club?"

"Ivan and Yong Soo were taking care of it – kind of like a work-study program."

"So you wouldn't know if anything was missing?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Do you ever go to the Chinnaty Club?"

"On occasion – it's closed during the day, so it's a good place to hold meetings with the staff and managers. It has the safest cash office, so a lot of our book keeping is done there."

"Does Natalya ever go there?" Vash asked carefully.

"Every now and then – she's not old enough to work there, but if she's in the area she may pop in and say hi."

Vash finished his coffee, which Cameron took as his signal to put his notebook away.

"We've taken up enough of your time." he apologised "We're sorry to call so late."

"Not at all – let me see you out."

Katyusha left Ivan where he was, showing the officers to the door. They all stopped awkwardly in the foyer.

"Do you... have any clues?" Katyusha asked.

"We have some leads." Vash admitted "But there's nothing to worry about."

They were interrupted by Camerons phone starting to holler. He apologised and took it outside, closing the door gently.

"We don't think there's a threat to the general public." Vash went on "But if you feel unsafe at work at night, we'd be more than happy to send an officer around."

"That's very kind of you, Vash."

"Goodnight, Katyusha."

Outside, Vash waited for Cameron to finish his call, examining the unhappy expression on the tall mans face.

"They've found something." Cameron confirmed as he hung up "At his house. You're not going to like it."

* * *

Vash glared unhappily at the whiteboard, trying to decipher secrets from the random words and names written upon it. The weapon: an ice pick – something many bars and restaurants have lying around, often in multiples. It was branded with the Chinnaty Clubs logo, so there was no doubt it had come from the scene. A crime of passion? Had his assailant grabbed whatever was at hand? It was someone he knew, someone who he trusted enough to let them into his office.

The forensics report made for a disturbing read – he had been stabbed 8 times, the first seven shallow and haggard, missing most vital organs . It was the eighth stab that did the damage – it was stronger, cleaner, aimed right at his heart, and would have killed him if not for a small metal staple left over from a previous operation. Had the assailant, in a blind panic or rage, stabbed him seven times before calming down sufficiently to stab him that eighth time and remove the surveillance tapes and their fingerprints? That didn't add up.

The time of the attack: 4.15am. Who in the town of Hetalia was up that time of night? The Chinnaty Club closed at 3, the staff would be gone by half past. The only things open 24 hours in Hetalia were the petrol station and the supermarket, but they did such a poor trade at those times that the locals wondered why they bothered. The security camera on the bridge confirmed that Arthur had gotten home when his brother said he had – it was impossible to get from the Chinnaty Club to that bridge in the amount of time without a vehicle.

He went back to the forensics report – that eighth wound... Would the first seven have killed him, or just left him maimed, able to identify his attacker? There were eight sets of prints in the office – Mr Wangs; Ivans; Yong Soos; Katyushas; Arthurs; Lilys; Berwalds; and one unidentified print. Lily was above suspicion; Berwald had a airtight alibi; Yong Soo had been the one to report his brothers attack, so it was unlikely to be him. Ivan had no alibi, but forensics was on his side – he was a big man, he'd have caused far more damage than was done, even in a panic. Katyusha was a highly respectable woman, so the likelihood it was her doing was remote.

Vash groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. If his employment had taught him anything, it was that there was no such thing as a 'highly respectable' person. A bitter reminder was tacked to the whiteboard – photographs, found in Mr Wangs study. Photographs of one Arthur Kirkland. Vash couldn't stand to look at them, and if they weren't evidence he would probably burn them. He was the same age as Lily.

The door opened, snapping Vash away from his dark thoughts. Cameron entered, hands full of files and coffee, clearly tired.

"We tracked down Henry Kirkland." he reported "He's not even in the country: he went to Belgium a few years ago, runs a squalid backwoods dental practice. It seems he's under investigation from their inland revenue – they were pretty interested to know how much he owed in back child support."

"A fine example of a father." Vash muttered "What about the brothers?"

Cameron handed him the files, taking a sip from the clearly blisteringly hot coffee.

"The Kirkland boys all have files." he reported "Arthurs is by far the least serious – mischief and misdemeanours. None of it will stick. Owen's got a ton of traffic offences and a couple of assault charges from when he was a student, but his arresting officer very kindly described him as, and I quote, 'thick as two bricks.'"

"And twice as ugly." Vash agreed "I've met him. He might stab someone, but he's nowhere near smart enough to remove the security tapes."

"If you want smart, then what about the older two?" Cameron supposed, leaning against the metal table "An architect and a doctor."

"Angus is the tallest of the Kirklands." Vash knew "He would cause more damage than this."

"Maybe not." his partner disagreed "His son was premature and his wife is very sick – he's not at his physical peak. If he found out what Wang was doing to his brother, he might have snapped."

"If you want 'snapped', look no further than Patrick." Vash figured "He was nearly struck off last year for attacking the father of one of his patients."

"Wouldn't a doctor have done a better job? Or done something more subtle, like drug him?"

"He's a child psychologist – he doesn't need to know anatomy, and they can't prescribe anything they want. The amounts of drugs needed to kill a healthy adult man would be incredibly suspicious for him to prescribe or use. He is, however, the shortest of the Kirklands."

"So?"

"Small hands." Vash pointed out "Small, thin hands, like a womans."

"By that logic, we can eliminate Angus." Cameron reminded him "He's got big hands."

"Run the unknown prints." Vash instructed "I want to know how they compare to Patricks."

Cameron sighed wearily, but nodded, taking the file.

"There's nothing else to do tonight." Vash pointed out "Go home and get some sleep. Leave the prints to the labtech."

"Right. See you tomorrow."

Cameron left, closing the office door behind him. Vash turned back to the whiteboard – there was no doubt that Arthur Kirkland was the motive behind Mr Wangs attack. With no money missing, no other motives could be found. The question was, who knew?

He was certain Antonio knew, after how aggressive he had been during Arthurs questioning. He was certain again that Francis didn't know, or he would have come to the police immediately. It was very possible that the Kirkland brothers knew – their reappearance in his life of late was strange, especially considering the family history. If Antonio and Francis were involved, it was a safe bet that Elizavetta and Gilbert were as well.

Vash plucked the palm print from the whiteboard – it was far too smudged to be useful, except to note the size of it: small. Very small. Even his hands were larger, and he wasn't any taller than Arthur was. Who had hands this small? Elizavetta? She was tall for a woman, known for being... proactive. If she had found out, she might have done something about it. Gilbert? He had to tread carefully – he was the old police Chiefs grandson, he couldn't investigate him without evidence more concrete than the size of his hands. Antonio might have attacked Mr Wang – he had a temper on him for sure, but everything came back to the missing surveillance footage: if he was angry enough to try to stab a man to death, he wouldn't have had the forethought to remove the footage. Francis may have thought about it, but the idea that he could stab a person was absurd.

A thought struck him – could it have been more than one person? Antonio attacked, Francis and Gilbert cleaned up? Vash sighed – that didn't fit. Antonio was a strong man in the prime of youth – he didn't throw his weight around, but he was clearly toned. The wounds didn't match...

A grown man. The wounds didn't match a grown man. One of the twins...? He shook the thought away. How old were they now? Ten? They couldn't be out that time of night without anyone noticing, and what would they even be doing there in the first place? And what about Patrick? He was a grown man, but if memory served he was scrawny as anything. Mr Wangs siblings, the only other people with hands this small and access to the office, had been scattered to the wind at the time of the attack.

That eighth wound. It stuck out. Vash couldn't forget about it. It was stronger, surer. He thought back to his multiple attacker theory – were the first seven wounds inflicted by one assailant in a crime of passion, the final one by someone who had interrupted them and taken the attackers side? Someone older, someone calmer, stronger, but not any bigger than the original assailant? An older sibling?

He rubbed the bridge of his nose again, sighing deeply. There was nothing more he could do tonight. He would sleep on it, and talk to Arthur again first thing in the morning.

* * *

Katyusha covered her little brother in a blanket – the days when she could have carried him to bed after falling asleep in the living room were long gone. She set the alarm on the door before turning off the light and heading upstairs, taking a moment to knock on her sisters bedroom door.

"Natalya?" she called softly "Are you still up?"

"Go away." she heard from inside.

The lady sighed and opened the door, her little sister flinching noticeably at the sight of her. The pretty girl hadn't brushed her hair, and seemingly hadn't slept, dark bags under her panicked eyes. She was wrapped up in her baggy grey clothes, hugging her pillow desperately. With infinite patience, Katyusha sat on the bed with her.

"Have you slept?" she asked her sister "Do you want some pills?"

"I don't want any pills." Natalya muttered "I want to leave. This place isn't safe."

"We're perfectly safe." Katyusha assured "I'm not going to let anybody hurt you."

"Why did this have to happen? Why, Mr Wang, why?"

She started to cry again, small shoulders shaking uncontrollably. Katyusha pulled her into a tight hug, rubbing her back soothingly and shushing her like she had as a child.

"I'm not gonna let anybody hurt you." she cooed "I promise. It's okay. It's okay."

* * *

I keep thinking I've dropped mammoth hints, but my readers never pick them up, so maybe I'm wrong? Poor Arthur has been exposed - I haven't written much about his 'relationship' with Yao as I don't really feel qualified to pull it off, and it would be one hell of an awkward tonal shift. But as they say, it's what you don't see that scarier.

Vash hasn't had much of a part in this tale up to now - he's got a bigger role in 'Three's a Crowd', but if you recall in an earlier chapter I mentioned he was a policeman. And I should apologise for the lazy naming of Cameron (Cameroon, get it?). ba-dum tish.

Anyway, I love reading all your reviews (they sustain me!) and I love those of you who review every chapter (I know who you are!). Hint hint.


	15. Chapter 15 I Don't Care What You Did

OH MY GOD, SO MANY REVIEWS! *dies of happiness* I don't think any single chapter I've done has had that many reviews before. So happy :) For those of you who were looking forward to it, please enjoy the next one!

* * *

**I Don't Care What You Did.**

Antonio marched down the road, ten paces at least ahead of Gilbert and Lizzie. They were all tired and upset, emotionally drained after the conversation none of them wanted to have, trudging home with heavy hearts. Lizzie, uncharacteristically, had wrapped her arms around Gilberts, keeping close to him as they walked. Gilberts other hand was stuck in his jeans pocket, both of them looking at the ground as they went along their path. Antonios hands were clenched into fists, shoulders tight, eyes straight ahead.

There was almost no-one on the road – the attack seemed to have put the frighteners on the entire town, and they imposed a curfew upon themselves: all children came straight home from school, all adults in before the sun set. What a terrible way to end the summer.

"Toni, slow down." Lizzie bid.

He stopped and spun around, mouth open and baring his teeth like he was going to snap at her, but stopped himself before he spoke. He clenched his jaw, teeth still bared, and started to march again.

"Hey, Toni," Gilbert called "You wanna come to my place for a beer?"

"What kind of stupid question is that?" he finally snapped "No I don't want a beer!"

They entered the park, walking along the river front they had frequented so often in their youth. Seeming to come to herself, Lizzie let go of Gilberts arm, jogged forward and kicked Antonio hard on the back of his knees, sending him careening to the ground. He immediately turned on her, but she wasn't backing down.

"You're taking this way too badly, Toni!" she scolded, hands on her hips "We're all upset, but this aggressive attitude of yours has to stop! You want Romano to see you this way?!"

"Of course not!" Antonio snapped.

Lizzie grabbed a fist full of his shirt, stopping nose to nose with him.

"This isn't about Arthur, is it?" she challenged.

He openly glared at her, grinding his teeth. Gilbert stood behind them, hands still in his pockets, silently. Antonio started to breathe deeply, quickly at first, then more slowly, calming himself down. After a moment, his shoulders slumped, eyes going to the ground. He put his head on Lizzies shoulder, wrapping his arms around her back.

"I'm sorry." he said.

Lizzie released his shirt. Gilbert squatted down beside them.

"Did I ever tell you," he asked quietly "How Romano came to live with me?"

Gilbert shook his head, but the two of them said nothing.

"His mother was a cousin of mine." he revealed "We used to spend summers together at Grandmas. Her husband beat her to death when he thought she was having an affair."

"Oh my god..." Lizzie breathed.

"He tried to kill Romano too, but he managed to hide with his baby brother. That man shot himself in the head. Romano saw."

They were shocked into silence – Antonio had never mentioned anything like this before! How was he keeping something as terrible as that to himself?

"Where's the baby?" Gilbert asked carefully.

"With my brother in the city." he revealed "Romano got a little... strange... after his parents died. Of course he would. It was safer for his brother to be elsewhere, just for now..."

"That's horrible, Toni." Lizzie agreed.

Toni squeezed her a little tighter.

"It gets worse." he muttered, voice calm and dark "My cousin wasn't having an affair – she was being sexually harassed by her boss... and she died for it...she went to him for help, and he beat her to death."

"And Arthur was the same thing all over." Gilbert summarized.

"I couldn't help my cousin. I wasn't there when she needed me. When I heard about Arthur... I was going to put an end to it, no matter what." he breathed deeply "No matter what."

He finally released her and took a step back, looking at them both with cool, serious eyes.

"I'm going to protect Arthur, no matter what." he told them.

"You don't need to protect him anymore." Gilbert pointed out carefully "Yao Wang's in no position..."

He trailed off, seeing the dark and knowing expression on his friends face.

"You think Arthur did it." he realised.

They both looked at Antonio in disbelief, but he didn't deny it.

"I wouldn't blame him." he muttered darkly.

He finally stood, pulling Lizzie up with him. Gilbert stood straight and the three of them were silent a moment.

"I'm sorry." Antonio said again "And thank you for trying to calm me down. I don't want to show a face like this to Romano."

He forced on his usual smile, but it didn't help alleviate his friends mood.

"Everything's going to be okay." he swore "I just know it. I have to get Romano from my mothers, so I'll see you guys later."

Without another word, he walked off down the path. At least he wasn't marching... His friends watched him go a moment, Gilbert putting his hand comfortingly on Lizzies shoulder. When Antonio was out of sight, she turned to him.

"Do you think Arthur did it?" she asked.

"I don't know." he admitted "Normally I'd say no, but people are capable of all sorts when they're backed into a corner."

Lizzie tugged at the collar of her shirt, shaking her head.

"This is madness." he mumbled sadly "Gilbert... would you mind walking me home?"

"Sure."

He held out his arm, and she took it as she had before, the two of them walking home in almost complete silence.

* * *

Arthur took Matthew to the doctors – his complaints about chest pain were too serious to ignore. He had been prescribed some sedatives, but the doctor said it was nothing more serious than stress, although they should keep an eye on it. It seemed a lot of local children were getting stressed, what with the bizarre events unfolding, and the doctor was kept busy by worried parents.

Francis hadn't said a word since last night, which was both wonderful and horrible – Arthur didn't have to deal with any sordid questions, or worse, but he couldn't stand Francis' ghostly paleness and silence. After a seemingly never-ending turbulence, everything felt too still, too calm, like the quiet instance before the explosion. He didn't like it. Not at all.

"What flavour do you want?" he asked Matthew as they walked back from the doctors surgery.

"Maple syrup."

"You want sprinkles?"

"Can I have syrup?"

"You want syrup on your syrup?" he laughed.

A throat clear behind them caught his attention, but he immediately regretted turning around – Vash and Cameron, in full uniform, stood behind them on the path.

"Afternoon, Arthur." Vash greeted "You're a difficult man to track down."

"Everything alright?" he asked cautiously.

"Lily was a little worried about Matthew." he obviously lied "How's he doing?"

He felt Matthew squeeze his hand and try to hide behind him. Vash uncharacteristically smiled, kneeling down to his level.

"Hey there, Matthew." he greeted "You remember me? I'm Lilys big brother."

Matthew responded by hiding further behind Arthur, the older brothers arm starting to hurt where it was being bent the wrong way.

"You're still shy." Vash laughed "Will you say hello if I buy you some ice-cream?"

"Don't take things from strangers." Matty muttered, not taking his eyes off him.

"Smart lad." Vash complimented sincerely "But I'm not a stranger – I went to school with Francis, and my little sister Lily is good friends with Arthur."

The child didn't look convinced, but Vash remained patient.

"This is my friend Cameron." he introduced "We work together at the police station."

"I didn't do anything wrong." the said quickly.

"I know that." Vash assured "You're a good boy. We're here today because your big brother is going to help us catch the bad guy."

"The guy that stabbed Mr Wang?"

"That's right. Cameron's gonna buy you some ice-cream so Arthur and I can talk, okay?"

Matthew eyed Cameron carefully from his vantage behind Arthurs back.

"He's a stranger." he knew.

"It's alright, Matthew." Arthur assured "It's only over there, you can see me the whole time."

The boy looked up at him for confirmation, and he nodded. Reluctantly, he let go of Arthurs hand, allowing Cameron to lead him across the way to the ice-cream stand. Arthur turned to Vash as he stood straight.

"So you _can_ be nice." he teased.

"Of course I'm nice to children." Vash countered "What kind of man do you think I am?"

One that doesn't like to be teased, evidently.

"I told you everything I know." Arthur started.

"We found the photographs." Vash interrupted.

"Pho...?"

Arthur trailed off when it occurred to him what he could be talking about, horrid shudder running from his heart and down his spine. Vash kept his eyes on him, serious, but not unsympathetic. The policeman gestured to a nearby bench and the two of them sat, watching Cameron treat Matthew to an absurdly large ice-cream cone. Vash allowed him a moment before speaking.

"Those photographs are being kept as evidence." he informed him "When this case is over, they'll be locked away and never looked at again. Your family and friends will never see them."

Arthur felt nauseous. He could feel his heart pounding, a hot prickly feeling covering the back of his neck like a child caught in the act. Vash, ever professional, remained patient.

"What happened?" he asked.

He waited. Arthur couldn't find the words. He didn't want to talk about it, least of all with what was at best an acquaintance and at worst suspected him of a heinous crime.

"I'm not here to judge you." he promised.

Matthew and Cameron were sitting on the swings with their ice-cream. He couldn't talk to Vash while looking at them, turning to the officer beside him.

"He threatened Ivan." he admitted quietly "Said he'd ruin his life."

Vash nodded, remaining sympathetic.

"How old were you?" he asked.

"Pardon?"

"You've worked for Mr Wang a long time." he pointed out.

Arthur shook his head, not wanting to make the situation any worse than it actually was.

"Just the past few months." he informed him.

"Small favours." Vash muttered.

"You won't tell anyone?"

"No-one who doesn't need to know." Vash assured, shaking his head "Who knows about this?"

"Gilbert." he admitted "He told Antonio and Lizzie."

"Does Francis know?"

Arthur looked down, feeling nauseous again. Reaching up, Vash rubbed his shoulder supportively.

"They told him yesterday. It was bad."

"He didn't know before?"

Arthur could only shake his head, afraid he might actually vomit if he opened his mouth to speak.

"Does anybody else know?" Vash asked "Your other brothers?"

Arthur looked back up. Vash, realising he had been rumbled, took his hand back.

"We believe whoever stabbed Mr Wang knew about... about what he was doing." he confessed "Someone who wanted to protect you, or save you. Someone to whom you're very important. The evidence at the scene means we can rule out Ivan and Antonio, and if you say Francis only found out last night, then that just leaves Lizzie, and I don't like her for it."

"Even though she stole the love of your life?" Arthur reminded him.

Vash pinched his cheek. Hard.

"That's a bad habit you've got there." he grimaced "You're spending too much time with your brothers friends."

Vash released him – damn that hurt! He couldn't help but clasp his hand over his face.

"Son of a bitch..." he grumbled to himself as his cheek hurt like anything.

"Nice to know you're still a brat." Vash said "I'll ask you again – does anyone else know you were being blackmailed?"

Odd... Arthur actually felt better. His face stung something fierce, but it had been so long since someone had pinched his cheeks, it was actually kind of funny.

"Not that I know of." he admitted.

The officer seemed to pick up on his lighter mood, his expression softening a little before turning serious again.

"Arthur, I'm sure I don't have to tell you how serious this is." he said sternly "The kind of fury or passion it takes for someone to stab someone else on your behalf, whether to help you or save you, the kind of passion almost always turns against its object. You understand? You might be in danger."

Arthurs body went cold. He thought back to all the books he'd read, and they certainly seemed to support Vashs theory. Would whoever attacked Yao attack him a well? There was no way – why would they? Anyone could be 'furious' with Wang without necessarily being 'passionate' about Arthur. Hang on a second...

"I'm not a suspect?" Arthur asked, more than a little surprised "Even now you know about... y'know?"

Vash examined him seriously. His eyes darted about like he was trying to find the words.

"Abuse... rarely works that way." he said carefully "It's a very romantic notion to imagine the victim getting revenge on their abuser, but the truth... If you had done it, we'd have known right away."

Arthur didn't want to think about how exactly they'd know 'right away' if it had been him, but he'd read enough crime novels that he could take an educated guess. He had a hollow feeling in his gut, suddenly tired and wishing this conversation would end.

"Do you have my phone number?" Vash asked him.

"Yeah." he confirmed "Lily gave it to me. You know, just in case."

Vash nodded, standing.

"If anything comes up – and I mean anything – you call me." he ordered "You're innocent right now, but if I find out that you know who it is and are protecting them by keeping quiet, I'll have no choice but to declare you an accessory after the fact."

"I'll bear that in mind."

Vash signalled to Cameron that they were done talking, and he and Matthew got up from the swings, coming over to join them.

"Thanks for the chat, Arthur." Vash bid "I'll talk to you again soon."

He nodded to Cameron and the two of them took off. Perhaps seeing he was upset, Matthew touched Arthurs knees gently.

"Arthur?" he asked softly "Did you help catch the bad guy?"

He looked into those violet eyes, so full of innocence and love, and was incredibly jealous of him for a moment. He forced on a smile, pulling his little brother into a hug.

"I tried." he said "But I don't know how useful I was. Did you enjoy your ice-cream?"

"It was okay. Cameron is kind of weird, though. Can we go home now?"

* * *

Stood at the entrance of the park, Vash and Cameron watched the brothers leave.

"There's another player." Vash knew "He says Gilbert, Antonio and Lizzie were the only people that knew, but the evidence doesn't fit any of them."

"Not even Mrs. Edelstein?" Cameron supposed "She has the strength to do it, the motive and the smarts to remove the tapes."

"The last stab, yes." Vash admitted "But the first seven don't fit with her personality. Besides, a group of juvenile punks making good in adult life decide to go bad in a big way and try to murder someone? They have nothing to gain from such a thing."

"Not even protecting the youngest in their group?" Cameron countered.

That irked Vash a little. Was this rooky doubting his deduction?

"What about Matthew?" he asked him.

"Matthew and his brother were at home that night." Cameron confirmed "They had spaghetti carbonara for dinner and watched Kiki's Delivery Service while eating cherries for dessert. Alfred made a fuss because he didn't want a bath, and at about 9 they went to bed."

"As expected." Vash sighed happily "We can-"

"But he couldn't sleep, so the faeries told him a bedtime story that they told to Arthur when he was his age." Cameron went on without missing a beat "But the old lady ghost that lives in the spare room got mad, because she thinks children should be asleep that time of night, and she and the faeries got into an argument. Matthew calmed them both down by promising to go to sleep when the story was finished. … And Alfred snores like a warthog, it seems."

They shared a look. Vash just shrugged.

"I've heard stranger." he said nonchalantly "Let's go – we have to report to the chief soon."

* * *

Francis wasn't home when Arthur and Matthew got back. He didn't come home for quite some time, and Arthur was starting to worry as the sun set. He didn't want to be alone, and he didn't really feel like cooking. It had been a while since he had seen Ivan – things had been crazy since the attack – so he gave him a call, wondering if he might want to come over and bring dinner with him. Despite calling his mobile, Katyusha answered, immediately inviting them both over to theirs for dinner, going so far as to offer that Matthew could sleep in the spare room if they bought some spare jammies.

How... odd. Don't misunderstand, Katyusha was a very nice and generous woman, but since Arthur and Ivan had become lovers she had been very... 'guarded' perhaps, about how nice and generous she was with him – she had certainly never suggested that the twins sleep over. However, Arthurs desire not to be alone tonight was stronger than his suspicion of his future sister-in-law, so he packed Matthew an overnight bag and hightailed it to their place. Katyusha was at the door the second he pushed the doorbell, ready with open arms and a smile.

"Arthur, good evening!" she greeted jovially "Oh my goodness Matthew, you're getting so big!"

"Good evening, Katyusha." Matthew greeted politely "Thank you for having us."

"Oh, so polite." she cooed, ruffling his curly hair softly "Don't stand in the doorway, come in! I've made a big, nummy supper for my big strong boys!"

She ushered them in, shutting the door and immediately setting the lock. She ushered Matthew into the living room almost immediately, where she had fished out some of Ivans old toys for him to play with, suggesting that Arthur go sit with Ivan in the reception room. He could tell instantly why she hadn't wanted Matthew in the reception room – Ivan was slumped in the chair in front of the fire, large glass of clear spirits in one hand, just staring at the flames, skin pallid with dark bags under his eyes like he hadn't slept in weeks. It was a distressing sight, one which even Arthur wasn't sure he wanted to see. However, he was Ivans fiancé, and it was his burden to bear. He gently put his hand on the big mans shoulder.

"Evening, love." he greeted gently.

Ivan jumped, like he hadn't realised Arthur was there, and looked around.

"Arthur? When did you get here?"

"Just now." he admitted "Matthew and I are staying over the night."

"Oh." Ivan seemed a little happy "Where are Francis and Alfred?"

"Alfred's been playing up a little, so he's away with Patrick and Owen." Arthur admitted "Francis is... Francis is out for the night. It was lonely just the two of us, so Katyusha said we could come stay."

Ivan looked at him like he hadn't seen him in years, big violet eyes full of longing and sorrow. He reached forward hungrily, pulling Arthur into his lap and holding him tight. He kissed the top of his messy thatch hair, leaving his lips there and just breathing in the scent of him. It felt so good in his arms that Arthur didn't try to move, wrapping his arms around that solid frame and resting his head on that broad chest. They didn't say anything, just basked in each others presence and the glow of the firelight.

* * *

Ivan picked at his food like a sparrow. Katyusha fussed over Matthew the whole time (was she getting broody?), but Natalya didn't even come down from her room. Dinner was an awkward affair. Arthur offered to do the washing up, but the lady of the house already had everything in hand, fitting Matthew up with an adorable little apron. Instead she shoved a tray in his hands and asked him to take it upstairs for Natalya while Ivan had a lie down. He didn't object, balancing the contents carefully as he shuffled up the stairs.

"Natalya?" he called softly at her bedroom door "My hands are full – can you open the door, please? I bought you dinner."

There was silence for a moment, followed by a light shuffling. Natalya opened the door just a crack, using it to stare it him.

"Good evening, sweetheart." he greeted with a chuckle, half out of awkwardness and half hoping it would lighten her mood "How are you feeling?"

Natalya looked down, like she was thinking for a moment, before silently opening the door and stepping back. Ivan wasn't the only one coping badly, it seemed. No wonder Katyusha was acting a little strange – she probably wanted to be around someone who wasn't a total wreck. Arthur let himself in, putting the tray down on her desk. He startled a little when he felt her slink her arms around his torso, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt as she hugged him tightly. The young woman was quite a private person, only seeking comfort from others when she was very upset or felt vulnerable. Gently, Arthur pried her hands off his shirt, turning around wrapping his arms around her little shoulders. She wrapped her arms around him like a tendril, grabbing his shirt again and nuzzling into the nape of his neck.

She smelt like she hadn't bathed. Had she lost weight? Her hair was unbrushed and greasy. Poor little doll. Arthur rubbed her back soothingly.

"Why don't we do something tomorrow?" he proffered "Just you and me? We can borrow Katyushas car and go into the city and go shopping. You had a lot of fun last time we did that, remember?"

She didn't answer, but Arthur could feel her fingers shuffling about through the fabric of his shirt.

"Or," he suggested "I could give Felix a call, set up a spa day. My treat, of course."

Again, she didn't answer. Arthur sighed.

"You have to get out of this room." he told her "We can do anything you want – you name it, I'll make it happen."

She squeezed him tighter.

"I love you, Arthur." she mumbled "...Big brother..."

She was shaking a little. She had never called him 'big brother' before, so naturally Arthur was thrilled. He gave her a squeeze back, albeit more gently.

"I love you too, Natalya." he said "You're the best little sister a man could ask for."

"I want to see a movie." she told him.

"What movie?"

"Any movie."

"Okay." Arthur chuckled "I know what you like, I'll find something."

They stayed that way long enough for Natalyas food to go cold. He sat with her most of the night, just chatting and gossiping, and her mood seemed to lift. Katyusha poked her head in, but seeing that her little sister was actually engaging with someone, decided to put Matthew to bed herself.

* * *

Patrick threw a blanket over Francis, who hugged the third bottle of wine to himself, even in his sleep. Tucking it around his feet.

"How much did he have?" Angus asked from the kitchen table.

"He was already drunk when he got here." Patrick reported "And he drunk 3 bottles here."

"Who knew he had it in him." Owen complimented.

"Poor thing." Meredith disagreed.

Patrick made sure Peter and Alfred were sleeping soundly in the bedroom before leaving the door ajar and joining them at the kitchen table with his brothers and sister-in-law.

"What got him so upset?" she asked.

"He was too drunk to make much sense." Patrick informed them "But I'm guessing he found out."

"Well, that answers one question we had." Angus supposed, holding his wifes hand.

"I never took him as the type to drink to black-out point when he's upset." Owen admitted "Maybe he's manlier than I gave him credit for."

"It's not 'manly', Owen." Patrick scolded "He's using alcohol as a crux to hide from his problems."

"That kind of thinking is why we got you to stop drinking." Angus told him stenly.

"I'll talk to him in the morning, find out exactly what he knows." Patrick announced "Maybe pass him Susies card."

"Susie?" Angus asked.

"Dr. Reynolds." Meredith reminded him.

"Oh, right."

"I wonder why he came here?" Owen thought, glaring in disgust at his cordial "Why not go to his friends?"

"Could be they're the ones that told him." Meredith supposed "Maybe he felt like they were keeping secrets from him."

"But how would they know?" Owen asked.

"Same way we found out, perhaps." Angus answered "It didn't sound like old Wang was being particularly subtle – Patrick saw them in the middle of the street, don't forget."

Patrick stuck the nicotine gum in his mouth with extreme prejudice, chewing it as if doing so would scrub the memories of that night from his brain.

"Alfred goes home tomorrow." Patrick pointed out "We need to stay close to Arthur – if we start backing off now, he'll know that we knew."

"How should he handle this?" Meredith asked "Planning things to do after his shift everyday was a lot of work, I don't know how long we can keep it up."

"With Wang on deaths door we don't have to plan for everyday." Patrick explained "Letting us take care of Alfred for the week proves that we've entered the extended family group as far as Arthur is concerned – that means we don't need to make excuses to see him anymore: 'let's have a cup of tea' should be enough."

"He might not die, though." Meredith reminded them.

"A man of his age... even if he recovers, he won't be a threat to Arthur anymore."

"Physically speaking, he wasn't a threat to begin with." Angus reminded him "Do we know what he had on him yet?"

"We don't even know that he did have something on him." Owen thought.

"No, it had to be something." Patrick knew "I know what I saw – Arthur was not a willing participant."

"Let's not have this discussion again." Angus ordered his younger brothers "The question is – where do we go from here?"

* * *

Poor Romano. Poor Antonio. Poor Ivan. Poor everyone! So, the person in the shadows that night has been revealed! The Kirkland brothers all knew about Arthurs predicament, but what does this mean for the plot? Might whoever go after Yao go after Arthur too? The plot thickens...


	16. Chapter 16 Accessory After the Fact

I've had a lot of people guessing the attacker/attackers, some right, some wrong. Were you right? Read on...

* * *

Accessory After the Fact.

Francis woke up with no idea of where he was, no memory of how he got there and the MOTHER OF HOLY HELL of hangovers. He wasn't quite sure when he became aware of the ticking of the clock, whether it had been 5 seconds or five hours, but each and every tick and tock reverberated through his sore head like the striking of a great iron bell in a crystal clocktower. His throat was dry and sore, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. His eyes were pounding – how was that even possible? It felt like the lids were welded together.

His whole body was so very, very heavy. What was he lying on? What was that smell? He wasn't in his bed. Where was he? As bad as he felt already, it was far, far worse when he opened he eyes. He swore loudly and covered his eyes with his hands, curling up into a ball and rolling over, nearly falling right off what turned out to be a sofa. What had he done? Why did he have a blanket twisted around his legs? Why had he...? Oh... oh... that's why.

His hangover took a back seat, flew to the moon and disappeared completely from his consciousness as his memory of yesterday returned to him. Arthur... oh god...

His self pity was cut short by a familiar enthusiastic chortle. Francis opened his eyes no more than a crack, peeking through the gaps between his fingers. Alfred grinned at him, plaster on his cheek and missing a tooth.

"You're hung over!" he knew... way, way, way too loudly.

He started laughing again. Usually Francis liked that noise, but right now...

"Hey bro, don't be mean."

Owen appeared behind him, ruffling his hair.

"You're gonna be hung over yourself one day not too soon." he predicted "Francis will definitely remember and yell at you. The first time I was hung over, Patrick put an alarm clock right next to my head – on quiet days I can still hear it going off!"

Alfred started laughing again, but quieter.

"We're gonna get breakfast at McDonalds!" he told Francis "I didn't even know they _did_ breakfast!"

"We'll bring you something hot and greasy." Owen promised "Nothing heals a hangover like a sausage McMuffin."

"Why don't you just inject fat straight into my ass and have done with it?" Francis grumbled, curling up further and covering his eyes again.

"A little fat increases the sperm count." Owen swore as he herded Alfred out.

"Like hell it does." Francis knew.

Alfred was laughing the whole way out of the door. Francis wasn't sure if Owen actually did slam it, but it sure as hell felt like it as the sound shook his whole body. Uuuuuugh, he should have asked for coffee. That coffee smell lingering in the air was making him seriously hungry. There was a creak in the room – was someone else here? Whoever it was drew the curtains closed, plunging the room into semi-darkness. Moments later, they put something gently on the table in front of the sofa before sitting down with him, setting themselves by his stomach. Francis didn't want to open his eyes, but he knew he had to. He peeked through his fingers again – the darkness was much preferable. It had been a glass of water laid on the table. He looked around, entire body groaning. Patrick looked down at him, not saying a word.

Francis groaned, covering his whole face with his hands. He felt Patrick lay a hand on his shoulder.

"Owen and Alfred will be out for an hour." he informed his quietly "You've got until then to sober up. There's too much alcohol in your system for you to drive, though, so I'll have to take you home."

"I didn't drive here, did I?" Francis rasped, feeling like he had a throat full of gravel.

"Not sure." Patrick admitted "I've asked Owen to look out for your car."

"Alfreds tooth-"

"It was a baby tooth." he answered right away "The tooth fairy gave him a fiver for it."

"A fiver?!"

"Because he wasn't at home." Patrick elaborated "He got special 'big boy' rates. Don't you dare tell him otherwise."

"Uuugh... whatever. Just stop talking."

"I'll stop talking if you drink this."

Patrick picked up the glass, holding it closer to Francis' face.

"Tap water?" he groaned.

"Yes."

"Lukewarm?"

"Best thing for you."

"Why is it fizzing?"

"I spiked it with rohypnol. Bloody drink it, you pillock."

Francis downed the entire glass. Lukewarm tap water was the most disgusting thing in the world, but it coated his throat nicely. The stiffness in his shoulder and elbow wouldn't let him put it back on the table, so he put it down as carefully as he could on the ground. He actually felt a little better.

"Painkillers?"

"What else would they be?" Patrick sighed "How do you feel?"

"How do I..." he tried to think "Like my puppy got ran over by my favourite teacher. My girlfriend ran away with my fat unattractive brother. Like I got an answerphone message from my doctor 23 hours ago telling me I had 24 hours to live. I was walking through a field of wild flowers and got caught in a bear trap..."

He started to shake – he felt like he was going to throw up, but there was nothing in his stomach to expunge. He didn't want to talk about his feelings. He didn't want to think about it, imagine it, acknowledge it. His throat stung viciously, his eyes following as they started to water.

"Like there's a spear of ice jammed right through my heart." he sobbed "I couldn't help him... oh god!"

He gave up all pretext on control, openly howling with no thought to the pounding in his head. Patrick responded instantly, pulling the larger man up into a sitting position and forcing his hands away from his face.

"Francis, what happened?" he demanded "What's going on? Who couldn't you help?"

"Arthur! Oh god, my Arthur! I couldn't help him! Why couldn't I see?! I knew something was wrong!"

Patrick took Francis by the shoulders, shaking him roughly, shocking him into silence. His green eyes grew cold and hard as he looked at him seriously.

"What happened to Arthur?"

* * *

Katyusha was more than happy to take care of Matthew while Arthur took Natalya out, although Ivan only grumbled and sat himself back in the armchair in front of the fire with a big mug of black coffee. Natalya, who yesterday had been an unbathed mess, put on her best face, her nicest clothes and her favourite perfume. She had never been the type of girl that felt the need to impress people – she dressed up nice only because she wanted to – but when going around town with Arthur she always put extra effort in, not partly because he was the only man (besides Ivan, of course) who she could be beautiful around without being hit on. Her big brother wasn't as much fun, once or twice even telling her off for wearing too much make-up.

Natalya came back to herself more and more over the course of the day, critiquing the silly romcom Arthur had picked for them, gossiping and joking with him as they strolled through the highstreet and chucking her uneaten chips at the hungry seagulls. She kept her arms firmly linked with his as they walked: whenever some lad looked ready to hit on her, she gave his arm a squeeze so he could shoot them his best big brother glare. It always made her laugh when they got flustered and ran away.

Sauntering past the gallery, she spotted an exhibition by one of her favourite artists, and seeing her excitement, Arthur couldn't help but give in and buy them some tickets. Her mood improved exponentially as they admired the bright inks and soothing watercolours: although Arthur wasn't the biggest fan of art, he could appreciate the effort the artist obviously put in. Natalya rested her head on his shoulder.

"When you and Ivan are married, you'll live down the street, right?" she asked.

"I imagine so." Arthur confirmed "We shan't be too far away."

"I'm glad. I'd be lonely if you went away."

"You haven't got rid of me in thirteen years." he reminded her "I'm not going away now."

"Hmm." she sighed "Do you think I could move in with you two for a while after you're married?"

"Oh?" Arthur was surprised – Natalya and Katyusha got along very well "Is something wrong at home?"

"Nothing like that." she assured, nuzzling his arm a little "As long as Katyusha is taking care of us, she won't meet anyone and get married. I know she's lonely, and she really wants to have children before she gets too old. I want to move out so she can start a family, but I don't want to move away so I can help take care of them."

Arthur thought his future sister-in-law was fussing over Matthew a little too much. It made sense though – Katyusha was about that age.

"You know, Ivan and I are going to start a family too." Arthur told her "We're going to adopt."

"Oh?"

She didn't look at him a moment, instead fixating on the bright colours of the inks.

"You're going to be married for a little while first, right?" she asked.

"Of course – these things take a few years to process."

"I'm glad." she finally looked at him, smiling "You'll be a great dad, Arthur. I'm looking forward to being an auntie."

"I guess it is too soon to think about your own kids." Arthur reasoned.

"I'm not having kids." she said certainly.

"Oh?"

"I made up my mind." she assured him resolutely "I'm not cut out to be a mother. I'll be the worlds best aunt, though."

"Huh..."

How odd. The idea of choosing not to have children never occurred to Arthur, even though he was a gay man – it just seemed like one of lifes certainties to him. That said, had he thought about having children when he was her age? He was almost certain she would change her mind, but he kept it to himself – no-one could argue like Natalya, in public or otherwise, and he didn't want to spoil their day. Perhaps it was different for women...

They moved on through the gallery, a large watercolour nude catching their eye.

* * *

"Do you have your toothbrush?"

"Yes!"

"Do you have your hairbrush?"

"Yes!"

"All your dirty pants?"

"Yes!"

"Do you have Tony?"

"Enough!" Owen exasperated "He has everything!"

Alfred pulled Tony the Alien out his backpack to prove to Francis that he had him, pulling a triumphant smirk.

"I remembered everything!" he declared proudly.

"Good boy." Francis complimented, ruffling his hair "What do you have to say to Patrick and Owen, then?"

"You both suck and you shouldn't reproduce."

Patrick and Owen burst out laughing, but Francis was mortified. Oh god, there were a bad influence... Alfred just grinned at the reaction he got from his brothers. Francis sighed – he was really going to get it from his mother if Alfred kept sassing when he got home.

"Alright, let's go." he bid, leading the child to the front door.

As he opened it, he was stopped short by the figure standing before it: Vash stood, poised to ring the doorbell, with Cameron behind him. Both blondes jumped a little at the sight of each other, but recovered quickly.

"Francis," Vash greeted "Good afternoon. I didn't expect to see you here."

"Vash," he returned "Likewise... um..."

Francis' chest grew tight. This probably wasn't the best time, but...

"I... have something I want to talk to you about." Francis told him.

To his annoyance, Vash just nodded seriously and pulled his card out of his pocket.

"I'm a little busy right now." he confessed "Will you be free later this evening?"

"Sure."

He took the card, slipping it into his pocket.

"Is Doctor Patrick Kirkland around?" Vash asked before Francis could say anything else.

"Present." Patrick confirmed behind Francis, poking his head around the door "Whom do I have the pleasure-?"

"Sargent Vash Zwingli." he introduced brusquely "I need to talk to you about the attack on Mr Wang."

To Patrick? How odd... did the police think the attacker was one of Patricks patients? The good doctor pulled a face, gesturing for Owen to drive Francis and Alfred home before inviting the police in and almost slamming the door closed.

* * *

"This one is beautiful!" Natalya declared "So elegant!"

"I'm not wearing a dress!" Arthur repeated, trying desperately not to laugh his arse off.

"Hmm, that's a real shame." she continued to tease "You'd look so dashing in this, with your hair done up nicely with a big old bouquet."

"You're awful!"

His attempts not to laugh were in vain, Natalya smirking triumphantly. The dress in question included a giant bell skirt, an absurd amount of embroidery and a large blue bow - not exactly what Arthur would call 'elegant.' The course of their wanders had bought them to that odd part of town that housed all the wedding related shops, and the young lady instantly made it her mission to make Arthur laugh until he passed out with jokes about theme weddings, phallic cakes and absolutely absurd dresses.

"Where's your feminine pride?" she went on, crossing her arms over her chest "Don't you remember Felix's wedding?"

"Oh dear god!"

Arthur covered his mouth, knowing how loud he'd laugh if he didn't - yes, he most certainly did remember Felix's wedding!

"That was the most beautiful dress in the history of dresses!" she elaborated "The embroidery, the pearls-"

"The colour!" Arthur snickered.

"Blondes can wear bright pink." she smirked "And that crown!"

"Stop!" Arthur begged "My sides hurt!"

The two fell about laughing, collapsing on the bench on the side of the street. They might have been laughing for five minutes before finally catching their breath.

"Felix is the absolute Queen." Arthur giggled "Undefeatable!"

Natalya sighed as she stopped laughing, putting her head on Arthurs shoulder again.

"All the best men are gay." she complained.

"That's not true." he assured "What about... Um... Fra... Gil... An... Is he even straight? Rod... No, he's a dick... Ber- no, he's gay. Matthias? What about Lukas? He's a good one!"

"Serious brother complex." Natalya said without missing a beat "Francis is a mamas boy, Gilbert's in love with Lizzie and Antonio is Catholic."

"You don't like Catholics?" Arthur laughed awkwardly.

"I like birth control."

Arthur snorted with laughter, which seemed to be her desired effect.

"There's something 'wrong' with everyone, cupcake." he told her "Ivan's a homebody, Roderich is a useless fop and Lizzie is more manly than her husband is. When you're ready to get married it means that you love that person so much that those things don't matter."

"You have your issues too." she said immediately in defense of her brother.

"Never said otherwise, poppet."

"Creepy old perv."

"Moody brat."

"Grumpy, thatch-haired goat."

"Over quaffed cow."

"I love you."

"Love you too."

The two stayed on the bench for some time, chatting and joking until it started to get cold, at which point they ambled back home.

* * *

Vash finished taking notes: Francis had told him everything, including what the evidence didn't reveal and what the policeman didn't have the heart to ask Arthur. True to his word to the younger man, Vash didn't let on to Francis that he already knew, and he didn't mention the pictures. The hairdresser was clearly very upset, sending his younger brother to fetch the other one home as soon as the officers arrived. It was clear he could exclude Francis from his list of suspects.

"Thank you for coming, Vash." he finished glumly as he showed them to the door "I suppose you'll have to talk to Arthur as well."

"I will."

"Would you mind if I spoke to him first?"

"There's no hurry." Vash assured him "It will be a while before we can press charges against Mr Wang anyway."

"Press charges?"

Francis was clearly confused. He didn't expect they were going to do something about it?

"We're keeping it quiet right now." Vash confessed "Wang woke up yesterday. Doctors say his chances of surviving are pretty good now. As soon as we know who attacked him, was can press charges against Wang as well."

"I see..."

Francis seemed disturbed. His eyes darted about as he thought.

"Does he... Know who did it?"

"He's in no state to be questioned yet, but it's only a matter of time. We can't really say more."

"Of course, of course. Thanks for coming."

The officers left thereafter, getting into the car before speaking.

"I don't think he did it." Cameron admitted.

"I agree." Vash said "But he thinks he knows who did."

"Oh? He didn't say anything."

"He suspects someone close to him. Not Arthur, but someone important."

Cameron drove off, leaving the Bonnefoy house in the rearview mirror as Vash looked over his notes.

"How's your head?" the blond asked suddenly, startling him a little.

"Pardon?"

"Our talk with the good doctor."

Cameron pulled a horrid face, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

"Fucking sociopath." he muttered "People like him shouldn't be allowed pets, let alone be put in charge of children."

Vash was silent in empathy - Patrick Kirklands file made it clear that he was expert at finding peoples weakest point and exploiting it to devastating results. There had been accusations of fatal results, but nothing could be proved. It wouldn't surprise Vash, however, if it were true. Perhaps bringing Cameron along with him hadn't been the best idea.

"Sorry." he muttered.

"I'd put money on him being involved." Cameron went on "He didn't stab Wang, but I bet he gave the knife to whoever did. He wasn't at all surprised to see us, you know."

"And he kicked Francis and Owen out pretty quickly." Vash agreed "That's unusual here in Hetalia: unless they're in an interview room, it's almost impossible to get people alone here."

"You think he's keeping his craziness a secret from his brothers?"

"Francis is his key to Arthur and the twins." Vash figured "Owen's not smart enough to keep secrets."

"What do you think he wants with them?"

"Who?"

"Arthur and the twins." Cameron elaborated "People like him don't do things that don't benefit them in some way."

"Maybe something, maybe nothing." Vash figured "Family is important to crazy people as well."

"Important enough to try and kill his brothers abuser." Cameron knew "I'd stake my reputation on it."

* * *

Francis had sent Alfred over to fetch Matthew, but being an easily distracted little boy, the two of them had ended up staying and playing monopoly. Arthur and Natalya turned up in time for dinner, and it soon turned into a family game. It was 8 o'clock when Francis called to see where on earth the boys were.

"Sorry, sorry, time ran away from us." Katyusha apologised "I'll send them home when the game is done, okay?"

"As long as they're somewhere." Francis sighed "Will you send Arthur along too? I need to talk to him."

"Nothing serious, I hope."

"Well... keep this under your hat, but Mr Wang woke up yesterday." Francis told her in a hushed tone.

Katyushas heart stopped in her chest. Time stood still. He pulled through? He was alive?

"Things are kind of complicated right now, so we need to have a talk." he went on cryptically "So don't send him off too late... Katyusha?"

"Yes." she muttered quickly "I'll send them now."

She put the phone down. Her body went cold, her throat dry. All thought left her.

"Katyusha?"

She startled, looking around: everyones eyes were on her, Ivan half standing in alarm.

"What happened, who was that?" he asked.

No... this was... her whole body was shaking.

"Mr Wang woke up." she told them.

Ivan was instantly thrilled, jumping up from his chair and joining the twins in a celebratory yell. Natalya and Arthurs reactions were much more subdued. Katyusha opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her eyes started to water.

"It's time you went home."

* * *

It took a while to get the twins to sleep – they hadn't seen each other in a week, literally the longest time they had ever been apart, and the news of Mr Wangs revival was a big deal as well. Arthur was less happy, trying desperately to ignore the devastation reverberating through his whole being. He was upset that Yao hadn't died, but absolutely distraught that he had actually wanted him to. He could tell Francis was putting on a happy face for the boys as well, letting his smile drop only when the two of them were asleep.

Arthur immediately marched to his room – he didn't want to talk to Francis, didn't want to answer questions or talk about options or discuss the grim details. He wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. Cry for his lost freedom and the part of his soul that didn't want an old man dead. He went to shut the door, but Francis had been right on his heels, throwing it back open. Before Arthur could act, Francis threw his arms around him, pulling him into the tightest hug either man had ever experienced. Arthur wanted to push him away, tell him to stop being a prat and keep his girly germs to himself, but he also wanted to be held. Freeing his arms, he returned the embrace, albeit gentler.

* * *

Smoke was billowing in the back garden, a sickly-sweet burning smell accompanying the alarming orange glow. Katyusha, tying her dressing gown closed, rushed down the stairs and to the back door. Ivan, clad only in his pyjama bottoms, appeared at his bedroom door.

"Is something burning?" he asked.

He followed her out the back door, stopping short at the sight they beheld: Natalya had dragged her plastic bin down from her desk and set it on fire on the grass. She stood in her nightdress, just staring at it.

"What is she doing?" he wondered.

Katyusha stepped forward, Natalya flinching violently as her big sister laid her hands on her shoulders. In the bin, she could still make out the tapes, and what was left of the clothes they had been wearing. The tape boiled and blistered before disintegrating with an alarmed 'hiss', their casing melting into the molten plastic of the bin. Natalyas eyes were wide, terrified, her skin ashen, shaking as she cried. Her lavender eyes were pleading with her big sister, but Katyusha had no answers. She could only rub her sisters shoulder supportively. They both jumped as Ivan laid his heavy dressing gown on Natalyas little shoulders.

"Inside." he ordered "Now."

* * *

A meeting was called the next morning of all Mr Wangs employees, where his siblings breathlessly announced his revival: despite his age, he was in good shape, and the doctors thought he'd be back on to full form in five years, and out of the hospital in as little as four months. It was hard to be enthusiastic, but everyone was too busy cheering and raising toasts to notice what Arthur, Katyusha and Natalya were doing. With the meeting-turned-party in full force, Young Soo bounced over to the trio.

"Lady Manager!" he greeted happily "I spoke to my brother yesterday!"

"Oh? How is he?" she asked, pulling a concerned face.

"He's worried about his business, of course!" the young man laughed "He wants to talk to you – I swear, he's been stabbed 8 times and all he can think about is his profits! He should trust his siblings to take care of things! Can you go see him tomorrow?"

Natalya grabbed her sisters arm. Arthur crossed his arms tighter over his chest. Katyusha smiled.

"Of course."

* * *

If you still don't know who did the thing, I'm either judging you from afar or I'm not very good at this whole writing thing. But why? What did she know? Did she know anything? Were there other factors? So many questions for the next chapter...

Yaos chat with Katyusha should be interesting, but maybe not for the reasons you're thinking. I can guarantee that this won't end the way you expect...

As always, I love reading all your reviews! (especially when you point out embarrassing errors, such as when Gilbert thought he might strangle himself... oops. But mostly I love praise.) On a side note, the story's really diverged from the description, so I'm thinking of changing it. Should I bother? Not really sure how I'd describe this now, though...


	17. Chapter 17 The Night in Question

I ended my last chapter by judging people who still couldn't guess who the culprits were. However, it seemed quite a few people still didn't know - perhaps it's my writing that needs to be judged...

I wrote half of this while completely bladdered on rose - points if you can guess which half!

* * *

**The Night in Question**.

Shit, shit, shit! Natalya had been super late leaving Lily's house – over two hours past her curfew! She was really going to get it in the ear from Katyusha when she finally got home. Hopefully Ivan was at his place tonight, or she'd get it in both ears. But that wasn't what was freaking her out – being yelled at wasn't a big deal, she could handle her siblings being angry – but it was the man following her that was setting her heart pounding, just far enough away that she couldn't see his face, but close enough that she felt seriously threatened.

It was late, pitch black but for the sickly orange glow of the street lights. She walked as fast as she could, but she was wearing heels and did absolutely not want to trip. She avoided the shortcuts she would have used during the day – down alleys and back streets and over the lonely bridge across the river – staying in the brightly lit areas where there still might be people. The man continued to follow, keeping pace with her perfectly. Her heart was racing. She couldn't stop and call her siblings – he would catch up. She couldn't call her friends, not at this time of night. She couldn't go back to Lilys without turning around and running right into her pursuer. What could she do?

She came to the highstreet. Shit! It was a wide street, but it would be deserted this time of night – no-one even lived above the premises these days! She heard the footsteps behind her speed up and nearly took off running – she had one hope, but she couldn't guarantee it would work.

She marched up to the door of the Chinnaty Club and rang the staff bell. It was bastard cold, and she put her arms around herself, straining her ears – the footsteps were growing closer, and she couldn't hide under the brightly lit awning. Please, please, please be there! Ivan! He was getting closer... starting to panic, she raised her arm to bang on the heavy wooden door, only to have it open before her.

"We are closed!" Mr Wang barked immediately before realising who stood before him, blinking in surprise "Natalya? What are you doing out this time of night, young lady?! Your siblings-"

"I'm being followed!" she almost screamed.

"Ha?"

Mr Wang stuck his head out the door, looking in the direction she indicated. The figure had disappeared, but that didn't make the young lady happy. Where the hell had he gone?! Was he hiding? Was he going to come back? The old man scowled at the street and immediately pulled her inside, closing and locking the door behind her.

"This is why you have a curfew, missy!" he lectured "You know what kinds of creeps and weirdos hang around at this time of night?"

"I'm sorry." Natalya said quietly, sense of relief starting to overwhelm her as he wrapped her arms around herself "Time just got away from me."

Seeing her distress, Mr Wang just sighed, dropping his stern demeanour.

"Well, consider this a lesson." he said "I'll call Katyusha to pick you up. Do you want something to drink?"

"Ivan's not here?" she asked, still hugging herself.

"It was a bad night – I sent him home early."

"Oh..."

Well, this could have ended very differently... thank god Mr Wang was still here this time of night. She jumped a little as he laid a hand on her shoulder.

"You're alright." he assured her "You're fine. You're safe now."

She hadn't realised she was shaking. She swallowed hard to calm herself, forcing on a smile.

"Yes. Thank you."

Mr Wang just smiled in that fatherly way he always did, patting her head.

"I'll make some tea. Are you hungry?"

"Not really."

"Just some snacks then. Go sit in the office and I'll bring them through."

* * *

Katyusha was mad – Natalya could hear her on the other side of the phone, even across the room. Mr Wang pulled a face as he listened, saying nothing but 'yes', 'of course' and 'I understand' before hanging up. He sighed deeply as he sat on the chair in the other side of the table. After a moment, he looked at her and smiled.

"You're grounded." he sung.

Natalya laughed. Being grounded wasn't the worst thing that could have happened tonight. She sipped at her hot, sweet tea, feeling considerably calmer. Mr Wang crossed his legs and got comfortable.

"You know, I've been meaning to chat with you, and now is as good a time as any." he admitted, picking up one of the biscuits on the plate.

"I'm not fired as well as grounded, am I?" she joked.

He laughed along with her.

"Nothing like that. Just the opposite, I hope." he munched on the biscuit before speaking again "You know, your brother took so long to decide what he was going to do at university, he almost lost his place!"

"I vaguely recall." she thought "Katyusha was super mad."

"She was!" he confirmed "So I thought I'd get you thinking about it early."

"I've already thought about it." she admitted hesitantly, putting her teacup down.

"Oh?" Mr Wang sounded delighted, leaning forward in his chair "Tell me, tell me!"

Natalya hadn't told anyone about her plans, and she wasn't sure how they would go down – her siblings had chosen such straightforward careers, hers seemed downright fanciful. Although it wasn't too dissimilar to what Arthur was doing, Katyusha had been pretty vocal on how useless she thought his degree was going to be... Mr Wang waited, excitement shining in his eyes. Well, now or never.

"I want to be a curator." she admitted, heart skipping a beat at the excitement of finally saying it out loud.

"Hm?" he tilted his head to the side "Like at a museum?"

"More like at an art gallery."

"Can you draw?"

"Not even a little." she admitted "But I really like art. I really want to encourage artists and try to help them sell their stuff. I think the whole world should be covered in beautiful art!"

She felt her cheeks grow hot in embarrassment. Mr Wang just smiled at her.

"There's not a lot of money in it." he reminded her.

"I know. I think it's more important to do something I love for little than be rich and miserable."

He laughed a little, smiling wider.

"I did what I loved and got rich out of it." he told her "Katyusha did what she had to to support you and Ivan, and became pretty well off as a result. Ivan did what he could because he had no ambitions and got a job for life. It's only natural that the youngest should be able to follow her dreams, even if there's no money in them."

"You don't think I'm being daft?"

"Well, maybe a little." he admitted "But that's the luxury of being the youngest – just look at Yong Soo! Besides, we all have things we want. Just promise me you'll marry rich!"

"There's no-one richer than you, Mr Wang." she teased.

"Ai ya, you can do much better than me!" he played along "I'm far too old and grumpy! You need someone young and grumpy! Maybe a hot young blonde with a European accent!"

They both burst out laughing, and Natalya was significantly relieved – Mr Wang was on her side, he could convince Katyusha to let her study what she wanted. After chatting a little more, the two of them had finished the plate of biscuits, so he got up to bring some more, despite her objections. After about a minute of silence, a triumphant 'ha!' reverberated through the empty club. The young lady looked around curiously as the boss burst back into the office.

"Security cameras!" he declared.

"Security cameras?" she repeated.

"I have them all along the highstreet!" he told her "I'll bet we got that creepers face on at least one of them!"

"And do what with it?" Natalya reasoned "Following someone's not illegal."

"Pfft!" he declared, waving his hand "This is Hetalia! Someone will know who he is, he'll be completely shamed! Following a young lady around at night like a would-be rapist. I'll tell everyone, put his face in the paper and ban him from all my establishments! His life will be a living hell!"

He disappeared again down the hall, Natalya quickly following him, half curious, half trying not to laugh at his histrionics.

"Housewives will gossip about him behind their hands!" he declared "Children will throw stones! No woman will ever look at him again!"

"You're awful." Natalya laughed.

"Thank you." he smirked, patting her on the head again "Anything for my little doll. The machine's in here."

He unlocked a door Natalya had always assumed was a cupboard, revealing a whole wall of monitors, what looked like recording equipment and a whole mess of wires.

"Whoa!"

"Impressive, isn't it?" he smirked "I won't tell you how much it cost, though. With this system, I reduced my yearly insurance by over £20,000!"

"Th... I can't even imagine that kind of money, and you saved it?!"

"I'm that good." he laughed again "Come on, I'll show you how it works."

* * *

This system was absurd – Mr Wang had cameras in every single one of his businesses, inside and out, and even a few on the streets, just because he owned all the buildings on it! It was impressive and a little frightening, to be honest. The man himself brought her another cup of tea before disappearing back into his office to finish up his paperwork, leaving her to spool through the footage herself. Unfortunately, she wasn't the most adept at using computers, and furthermore she didn't particularly like them, so she kept getting lost and ending up in random places, not sure if what she was seeing was live or recorded. Ugh, someone come do this for her! Berwald would do it if he was here.

Come to think of it, Katyusha would probably know how it worked. Maybe after screaming herself hoarse at Natalya when she finally got here, she could find the footage in a couple of minutes. This was why she preferred art – the bloody things didn't move around! Damn, it was getting late. Maybe Mr Wang would understand if she didn't come in to work tomorrow – she didn't mind giving Arthur her shift if she could have a lie in. She yawned, stretching back widely, and in the process spilled her tea all over the very expensive looking control panel. She swore loudly, tearing off her scarf and desperately trying to mop it up, pressing all kinds of switches and dials as she did so. She could most definitely NOT afford to fix this if it broke!

After a minute of panic, she managed to mop up all the tea with no sign of damage to the machine. Thank goodness! Although, her scarf was completely ruined. She sighed, dropping it into the bin, and sat back down, turning back the monitors. Aw man, where was she now? It looked like she was seeing the middle of the day, but which day she had no idea. Uuuugh. Most of the monitors showed little or nothing – restaurants did their trade in the evening, after all – except for the café, where she could see Arthur waiting tables. She giggled, feeling a little perverse for being able to watch him without his knowledge. Did Ivan know how to use this machine? They might never get him out of this room if he did!

Arthur looked grumpy as always as he cleared the café table and bid goodbye to the customer. The café was completely empty – Katyusha had said it wasn't doing very well – and Arthur looked none-too-pleased about it, furrowing his thick dark brow as he concentrated on wiping down the table. It was funny to think that he and Ivan were going to get married – to be honest, her feelings about it were mixed. She liked Arthur – he was like a second brother, only more fun, taking her out to the city and spoiling her every now and again. He was especially fun to tease because he didn't take it as well as he could dish it out. She liked the idea of him becoming her brother-in-law. On the other hand, she didn't like him as Ivans boyfriend/husband: there was just something off about their relationship, something she couldn't put her finger on. Katyusha and Francis had discussed it at length, but Natalya was never privy to their conversations. She would much prefer Arthur marry Katyusha, if that were possible.

On the monitor, Arthur finished washing the table and shoved the dishcloth unceremoniously under the strap of his apron, clearly grumbling, and Natalya found herself smiling. Ivan really did love him, and she could understand why. She hoped Katyusha and Francis were wrong, and their marriage would be absolutely fine. Mr Wang appeared in the frame from the back room, and the two of them spoke a moment. How he could work so many hours was baffling, but that was why the old man was so successful, she supposed.

Arthur turned away from him, looking even grumpier, and Mr Wang smiled – he must be teasing him, she thought. Mr Wang looked around the empty café and out the door before strolling over and locking it. That's unusual – what was he up to? Locking the door during the middle of the day? He almost danced over to Arthur, who visibly went rigid, and put his arms around him. That's a little far for teasing. No wonder Arthur had that expression on his face. He physically pushed his boss away, trying to walk in the opposite direction. They were going to fall out if he... if he... Mr Wang marched right after him, grabbing him again, far too low down to be considered around the waist, stopping Arthur in his tracks. The younger man started to argue, but Mr Wang said something to make him stop. He pulled a horrid face, going docile. What... what was going on? The older man moved his hands, slipping them under Arthurs clothes. The blond stood extremely rigid, and the expression on his face as his boss started to kiss his neck... What was this? Natalyas mind went blank as she saw... her stomach dropped, and she knew immediately that this wasn't an affair.

She wanted it gone. She didn't want to see more, to see it get worse. Coming to her senses, she pushed a button, any button, to make the horrid scene before her go away.

All the monitors changed, but every single one showed the same thing: Arthur. Arthur at the café; Arthur at the Chinnaty Club; Arthur getting a take out; joking before his shift; mucking about throwing cloths around with Yong Soo; having a private moment with Ivan. What...What?! She looked at the control panel: 'program 3.' Program 3? Was this saved? Were there others?! A cold sweat engulfed her. Dare she? Should she? The buttons was right there. Heart pounding, she pressed the button for program 4.

* * *

Yao let out a growl of exasperation and success – last form finished! He slammed it down triumphantly, putting his pen down on its perch. He was going to enjoy his sleep tonight, for sure. He then remembered Natalya was in the other room – inconvenient. He would have to wait until Katyusha got here before he could leave, but it had been a while since he called her so she shouldn't be too long. He could use another cup of tea, though.

With a stretch of his tired shoulders, he got up and sauntered to the door.

"Natalya!" he called loudly down the hall "Do you-oh!"

Natalya was stood at the door, startling him a little.

"My dear, you scared me!" he said, laughing at his own awkwardness "Do you want another drink? I-"

He stopped. What? What was? Hot? He looked down. Something was sticking out of him. His blood was running across his shirt. Pain. What? Pain? What was? He looked up at the girls face, head spinning. Her face was flushed, tears streaming down her face.

"Natalya?"

"How could you?" she muttered under her breath "Destroying everything!"

She pulled the weapon out, both hands clasped over the handle. Her whole body was shaking violently, her eyes wide and desperate.

"I won't let you..."

She lunged.

* * *

Katyusha was fuming – anything could have happened! Who was this fucking creeper following Natalya around at this time of night?! The police were going to hear about this! She would get the bastards face off the cctv cameras and wallpaper the whole town with them: 'Have you seen this creepy fucking stalker? Kick him in the fucking balls!' It wasn't like Natalya to miss curfew, and it wasn't like she was a bad girl, but...Katyusha was still fuming. She was going to tell her off something fierce, that was for sure! Thank god Yao had still been at the club – she didn't even want to imagine what could have happened if he hadn't.

She fished around in her bag for the keys to the club, throwing aside the detritus inside, grumbling irately. Her date with Eduard had been going really well too! She was definitely going to buy Natalya a car, then shit like this won't happen. She practically slammed the door opened before shoving it closed again and locking it behind her.

"Natalya!" she called into the dark and silent club "You are in a whole world of trouble, missy!"

She threw the keys back into her bag. She stopped. There was silence in the club. Not a mouse squeaked, not a shadow moved. She didn't like that, not at all. She hooked her hair behind her ear and reached for the pepper spray in the front pocket of her bag.

"Natalya?" she called again "Yao?"

Tentatively, she stepped further into the club. Best case scenario – they just hadn't heard her. Worst case scenario – someone had broken in and tied them up so they could take the nights proceeds. She strained her ears, but heard nothing. She could see the light shining through the 'staff only' door, peaking through the window – there was nothing in the hallway. The door to the cctv room stood open: Yao had clearly had the same idea she had. She opened the door quietly.

"Natalya?" she called carefully.

There was a quiet yelp around the corner, which only made her more worried. She threw the door open and marched to Yaos office, stopping immediately at the door, mind going blank at what she beheld.

Yao lay on the floor on his back, coughing, struggling desperately to breathe as he lay in a widening pool of his own right, hot blood. Seeing Katyusha at the door, he looked like his saviour had arrived, pleading at her with his eyes. Natalya sat slumped on the floor, ice pick in her hands, staring blankly at him. Katyusha knew immediately – Natalya had stabbed him.

"My God..." she breathed.

The unconsciously grabbed the cross around her neck. Natalya suddenly twitched, bringing the elder sister to her senses, and she knelt down beside her.

"Natalya?" she called the nearly comatose girl "Natalya, what happened?!"

The girl just stared at the mans bloody torso, eyes wide and pupils small, breathing in rasps and gasps. Both women jumped as Yao tried to speak, but nothing more than a strangled cry escaped his lips. Oh god! Oh god, oh god, oh god! What was this?! What was going on?! He was dying! There was so much blood – he was seriously going to die!

Natalya was covered in his blood, head to toe. What had happened?! Natalya...

Yao let out another strangled cry, trying desperately to move his hand, still pleading. Looking at him, Katyusha was overcome by calm. She took the ice pick from her sister and knelt over Yao, whose eyes started to water, loosing all hope as she looked up at her.

"I'm sorry." she said, startled and terrified by the calmness and ease with which the words flowed from her "But I'm sure you understand. You can fire me when we meet in hell."

She raised the pick high above her head, aimed for his heart, and delivered the final blow.

* * *

Natalya was entirely unresponsive, even as her sister undressed her and sat her down in the shower, washing away all the blood and dirt before putting her in her pyjamas and tucking her into bed. That thousand yard stare was unnerving, worrying. What had happened? What the hell had happened?!

Katyusha returned the club right away, removing all evidence the two of them had been there. It made her skin crawl to know there was a corpse in the other room, but she couldn't think about what had happened. It was in her hands now – she was the big sister. She would protect Natalya. She started by gathering everything that she knew belonged to her sister – her bag, her coat, her scarf... where was her scarf? Remembering the open cctv room door, she checked inside, breathing a sigh of relief as she found it, soaked in tea, in the bin. While she was here, she may as well take tonights tapes.

She looked a the monitors, and instantly she knew why Natalya had done it. She could scarcely believe... surely this couldn't be real? She couldn't worry about that now. She knew the system well, and within minutes all of the nights tapes had been collected into her handbag. She went back into the office, ignoring the body on the floor, and removed any trace of another person in the room, even washing up the tea cups and plate of biscuits. She reset the room to make it look like he had been working.

The weapon... it was still stuck in his chest. She couldn't take it out: just looking at it made her sick. She knew she should wipe the fingerprints off somehow. She took a deep breath, whole body shuddering as she wiped a cloth over the wooden handle, not able to do more than a single swipe before becoming so sick that she had to run from the room and throw up in the toilet. That was enough. That had to be enough.

She looked around the office carefully, taking in every single detail – there was no proof either of the women had been there, not even a lingering scent of perfume in the air. Covering the handle with her handkerchief, she closed the office door, going back to the cctv room. She reloaded the program her sister had been looking at, feeling sick once again, and cross referenced the codes on the screen with the tapes on the shelf that dominated the side of the room, removing the offending items. There would be no evidence, no motive. She looked further than Natalya dared, removing every single tape that had any evidence at all of what Yao had done to Arthur.

She had to stop. Her stomach was reeling. How long had this been going on? The man on these tapes wasn't the Yao she knew, the one who supported her and protected her, who gave her a job and a home and made sure she could provide for her siblings. She didn't know this Yao, and she didn't want to. By tomorrow she would forget this night, and mourn the Yao she had known, not the molesting pervert that lay in a bloody heap on the floor.

And Arthur... that poor boy. It made her heart ache, but she couldn't cry for him – she had to take care of Natalya. That had to be her priority. She was the big sister. Francis would have to take care of Arthur. He was the big brother. She was almost hyperventilating as she removed the last of the tapes, locking the door behind her after she was sure she had wiped down every surface. She left immediately, wiping down every single thing she had touched and even checking the floors for the tell-tale scuffs of high heels, but there was nothing. No proof that either of them had been there.

She locked the door and went home.

* * *

Natalya begged her not to go. There was no evidence, they couldn't question Mr Wang for a while yet – they had time to run, to hide, to disappear, but Katyusha had to go. She had stabbed the man in the heart, the least she could do was talk to him. As his family and employees celebrated his return to consciousness, the same terrifying calm came over her as had that night. Arthur visibly tensed, Natalya started to hyperventilate, but Katyusha stayed calm. She would cope. She would cope as she had always coped.

Needless to say, there were officers posted at the door of Yaos hospital room: they only let her though after a thorough check of her bag and coat pockets. Katyusha still couldn't believe he was alive – how many times had Natalya stabbed him? Hadn't her own blow to his heart been enough? What was he going to say? How long before he told the police?

The officers left the two of them alone. She considered for a moment... she could smother him with the pillow. She could unplug his iv, pop his stitches and open up his wounds...

"If you do that, they'll know for sure it was you."

She looked up at his face – he was deathly pale, his voice weak, but his eyes shone with life and knowing. Calmly, slowly, she stood beside his bed, coat over her arm, and they stared each other down.

"Katyusha." he called softly.

"Yes?"

"You know, Natalya wants to be a curator. At an art gallery."

"I didn't know that." she admitted.

"It's a shame to waste a bright mind." he bemoaned, voice barely above a whisper "But if that's what she wants, we should support her. I'll make the best gallery she's ever seen and put her in charge of it. I figure that's the least I could do."

Katyusha didn't know what to say. She didn't know how to handle this. This wasn't what she was expecting. Yao barely had the strength to keep his eyes open, but he smiled at her.

"Katyusha?" he called again.

"Yes?"

"I'll fire you in hell." he told her "You've got a lot of work to do before then. Get a pen, I need you to take some notes: my siblings, god bless them, have no idea what they're doing."

No thoughts went through her mind. No 'what's or 'why's or 'how's. Of all the scenarios she had anticipated... She took her notepad and pen out of her bag.

* * *

Those of you who guessed Katyusha and Natalya were behind the attack - congrats! You were correct! But that ending... not quite what one would expect...

Looking forward to your reviews! Were you right? Were you wrong? What the hell is Yao thinking? Where do you think this is going?! Drop me a line! I love reading your theories!


	18. Chapter 18 Lies and Slander

I've been pretty sick this week :( So please forgive something of a weak chapter.

* * *

**Lies and Slander.**

It was raining. The sky was nothing by grey in all directions, the rain so cold and unrelenting that his skin could barely believe it. His whole body was frozen, shivering uncontrollably, but he couldn't feel it. His mind was blank. There was nothing left.

He looked at the bottle in his hands, the pills within spilling over each other as he turned it. There was nothing left now. It was so cold...

The alarm started to shriek, wrenching Gilbert away from the same horrid dream. It was an awful noise, but it had become his saviour lately. It took him a moment to remember that he wasn't in his own bed, or even his own house, and that Francis was sleeping in the bed beside him. With a groan, Francis turned the alarm off and rolled over, pulling the covers up over his head. Gilbert was never the type who could just lie in bed, so got up quietly and tip-toed into the hallway, scratching his belly and yawning. In the twins room, Antonio muttered in his sleep on the bottom bunk. Romano should have been sleeping on the top bunk, but had crept down during the night and snuggled up with his guardian below. Gilbert knew from experience that waking either of them was going to end badly, so he let them sleep.

He crept down the stairs, stepping over the one that creaked, and headed to the kitchen, startling a little to see it was already occupied. Arthur sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and the morning paper, looking up briefly as Gilbert entered.

"Water's still hot." he told him quietly.

"Great. I could use a coffee."

"You're up early." Arthur noted.

"You too." Gilbert pointed out.

"Couldn't sleep."

Gilbert made himself a strong black coffee before sitting at the table. The loudest sound in the room was the rustling of the broadsheet as Arthur turned the pages, a sudden noise that violated the otherwise pure silence. Gilbert sipped at his coffee, taking a moment to just absorb another day.

"So, when are you guys going home?" Arthur asked.

"You keen to get rid of us?"

"You've been here a week already."

"Jealous?" Gilbert teased "Want me to sleep in your bed tonight?"

Arthur shot him a filthy look, making him snicker, but it was too early in the morning to be funny.

"We're just making sure everything's okay." he said.

"I know." Arthur admitted "Still annoying."

It had been a week since Yao Wang had woken up in Hetalia General Hospital. His detailed instructions to Katyusha had a taken a lot of stress off his siblings shoulders and gotten everyone back to work with new hopes and high spirits. All but a select few, anyway. Stuck in wretched limbo, Gilbert and Antonio had all but moved in with Francis and Arthur (which of course meant Romano was there as well), with Lizzie dropping by every single day. Vash had come by once or twice to check on them, subtly reminding Arthur that it was in his best interests not to leave town.

Gilbert could understand why Arthur was having trouble sleeping – freedom from this horrible circumstance had been so close, now it couldn't end any other way than badly. The police hadn't been able to question Yao yet, but it was only a matter of time before the doctors had to let them in. Until then, they were all still suspects.

"Any luck with the job hunt?" Arthur asked.

"Nothing local." Gilbert admitted "There's a firm in the city that's looking for graduates, but the pay's not so great."

"Guess you'll have to move away."

"Not if I can help it – I like it here." he sipped his coffee "What about you?"

"Nothing local." Arthur echoed "Nordics Frozen Foods doesn't have shift work to suit students. If I drop out of uni I have tons of options."

"Don't you dare. We'd all rather you were unemployed for a year – we can support you."

"Mr pride won't allow that." Arthur admitted.

"And we won't let you be Yao Wangs plaything for another year."

Arthur didn't want to hear it, and Gilbert didn't want to say it, but the time for tiptoeing around the issue had long since passed. Arthur was looking for a new job – without Yao constantly in his ear, it felt like something that was doable, and they had to capitalise on that freedom before he was let out of the hospital. Reality, however, was harsh, and there were few jobs in Hetalia that could cater for students, almost none of which were in establishments not belonging to Yao Wang.

It was frustrating for a group of grown adults to find themselves so powerless. This was such a simple problem to solve but for one thing: Ivan. Despite everything, Arthur still hadn't told him, still didn't want him to know, but clung to him the same as ever. If only they would break up, this whole nightmare would be over.

Maybe there was something Gilbert could do about that...

* * *

Like most men of his age, Yao Wang was incredibly demanding, and after a few days in hospital was tearing out his hair and insisting he be released, despite the massive trauma his body had been through. With him being so lively, the doctors couldn't really stop Vash and Cameron questioning him. Despite the early hour, Ivan Braginski was there too, fluffing his pillows and fetching him water, clearly ecstatic about his recovery. Vash could tell immediately that he didn't know...

After some arguing with nurses, brushing his hair and rearranging himself comfortably on the bed, Mr Wang crossed his hands seriously on his lap and addressed the officers.

"Good morning, Vash." he greeted "Who's this? Is he new in town?"

"This is Cameron, and yes." he answered.

Mr Wang smiled at the officer.

"It's nice to meet you, Cameron." he said "I hope you'll come by the Chinnaty Club for a drink soon so we can get to know each other."

"He doesn't drink." Vash answered for him "And we're here on official duty, Mr Wang."

"How dull." he pouted.

"You don't find the fact that you were stabbed interesting?"

"My line of work has its dangers." he shrugged "How much did they get away with?"

"No money was missing."

"Oh?" he seemed genuinely surprised "Couldn't they get in the safe? You know, I've been thinking of buying one of those new digital ones, but if that wrought iron one does the job I may not need to."

"It's hard to open." Ivan agreed "Even with the keys."

"I suppose it needs a little oil. Will you pop that on your list for me, Ivan dear?"

"Yes, sir."

Cameron made some notes. Vash glanced at him, but said nothing.

"How much do you remember about that night?" Vash asked, looking back to the bed.

Mr Wang furrowed his brow, eyes going distant. After a moment of silence, he shook his head, grabbing Ivans arm in the manner of a distressed mother.

"I'm sorry." he said "I can hardly remember anything. Except..."

"Except?"

He shook his head again, pulling his best 'butter-wouldn't-melt' expression in Vash's direction.

"It's absurd, but... I remember... red hair."

"Red hair?" Vash clarified.

"I know that sounds odd, Va... Officer. Even I don't know what it means! Why, the only people I even know with red hair..."

He trailed off, glancing at Ivan. Vash had to admit, Yao was one hell of an actor – knowing what he knew, the officer could practically see him pulling the strings with every word and gesture. It was clear what he was aiming at – red hair was incredibly rare, the only people in town who possessed it naturally were the Kirklands.

If he knew who had done it, why didn't he say so? Was it another way for him to manipulate Arthur? How much of this was he hiding from Ivan, and why? Cameron continued to make notes.

The officers were there maybe an hour, but Mr Wang stuck to his story – he remembered nothing but red hair, but even when pressed he couldn't remember what kind. Vash caught a flash of annoyance in the older mans eyes when he asked – he clearly couldn't remember which Kirkland had what haircut. Having questioned them already, Vash did remember: Angus had an almighty mane of thick red thatch, tied away from his face with stubble to match; Patricks was cut to perfection, but clearly quite wavy and swept back in a classic style, by far the brightest red but without a whisker of facial hair; while Owens was so dark that from a distance it was brown, short back and sides grown out just enough that the curls were starting to come out. Thinking about it, there was no mistaking one Kirkland for any other – 'red hair' wasn't going to be enough . Although, maybe that was the idea.

Vash and Cameron agreed – he was lying through his teeth. The question now was why.

* * *

Arthur hadn't gone to work since the stabbing – he wasn't exactly scared of being fired – and found himself with an absurd amount of free time. Since the boys were still on holiday he spent a lot of it taking care of them, going down the park, playing football, going fishing, that sort of thing, and since Antonio was staying with them, Romano was along for the ride most days as well. Arthur didn't mind playing babysitter, but it was tiring at the end of the day, especially since he had no time alone what with having a full house.

Today was such a day – after playing football in the park for about 2 hours (Romano and Arthur versus the twins, p.s. they wiped the floor with the blond duo), they got home to find Patrick sitting on the garden wall waiting for them. The boys played Mario Kart while Arthur made him a cup of tea: Patrick didn't look so good, like he hadn't slept in a while, and chewed on the end of a brand new biro like each munch released life saving nicotine.

Patrick smiled gratefully as Arthur gave him his tea, sitting opposite him.

"You okay?" Arthur asked "You look like shit."

"I feel like shit." he admitted, sipping his tea "Thing's aren't so good right now."

"You get dumped or something?"

"I wish it were that simple."

He sighed deeply, putting his mug down gently on the table. His expression was sad, moving into devastated as he thought. Arthur stayed silent as tears welled in his brothers eyes, Patrick covering his mouth with his hand and calming himself down before speaking.

"It's Meredith." he said "She never had the strongest constitution, poor love, but... the accident, the operation... I guess she got an infection or something. She..." he sighed deeply again, squeezing his eyes shut to stop the tears from flowing "She's not got long."

"You're kidding..."

How dreadful... although, Arthur could believe it: he had only ever known Meredith as a pale and sickly woman, and she was obviously weaker every time Arthur saw her. Was she really...?

"How's Angus coping?" he asked, quiet enough that the boys couldn't hear him in the other room.

"He's not." Patrick admitted "Meredith made him the man he is, he's falling apart... the only light is that Peter's doing so well, but I don't know how he'll cope on his own. You know, that brother of ours, he's like a monkey trying to peel an orange, he always thinks he's gonna hurt the boy. He's... he's not coping, Arthur."

"I don't know what to say." Arthur admitted.

Patrick smiled painfully, and it broke Arthurs heart in a strange way.

"You're the lads godfather." Patrick reminded him "And you've got more experience with kids than Angus, it'd be great if you could sit for him. Not on your own, of course, I mean, Owen and I will pull our weight too, but... we brothers need to stick together right now."

Arthur felt awful. He wasn't feeling great at the moment as it was, but Meredith... Arthur had known she was sick, but he had no idea how sick. He didn't know her very well, but she was still his sister-in-law, and besides that seemed like a wonderful person. Was that baby really going to be left alone? After all the work and effort he put in to live and grow, it was too tragic. Seeing Patrick watching him, he nodded.

"I'll do what I can." he promised.

Patrick smiled again before taking a big gulp of his tea.

"I'm sorry to lean on you, little brother." he apologised "You need anything – anything at all – you ask us, we'll make it happen."

"Knowing anyone hiring?" Arthur muttered bitterly before he could stop himself.

"Hiring?"

Arthur caught himself, filling his mouth with tea before anything else came out. He ignored Patricks eyes boring a hole through him and looked out of the window, so didn't notice the knowing look in his eyes or see the cogs ticking over in his mind. He didn't look back until Patrick 'hmm'd in agreement.

"I know what you mean." he said "I wouldn't want to work in a place where someone was stabbed either. Actually, I'm glad you're looking for a change, the idea of you being there late at night makes me uncomfortable. I don't suppose you've had much luck, though."

"Not really." Arthur admitted, glad that Patrick seemed to have come to his own conclusion.

"I'll keep my ear to the ground." he promised "A lot of places in town don't advertise so they don't get inundated with students."

"They don't?"

Arthur was surprised – no wonder he couldn't find anything if they weren't advertising! Patrick chuckled at his frustration as he finished his tea.

"I'm guessing Ivan wasn't happy about you jumping ship on Mr Wang." he supposed.

"We haven't really talked about it." Arthur admitted "I... haven't actually told him. Yet, I mean. I will tell him."

Patrick looked him up and down, a look of concern crossing his face. He fiddled with his empty mug, clearly thinking about what he was going to say. He opened his mouth, then closed it, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand before looking at his brother again.

"Arthur... please don't misunderstand me or take this the wrong way, but has Ivan ever... hurt you?" he asked carefully.

"What do you mean?"

Arthur was immediately defensive – he had heard this shit before, and he didn't appreciate it: no one had any reason at all to believe that Ivan was abusive, but some people just wouldn't let go of the idea. Seeing he had pissed his brother off, Patrick kept his head down.

"You were a kid back then, I'm sure you don't remember." he figured "You never thought it was odd that Ivan was raised by his sister when his father was still alive?"

"No." Arthur replied simply – his own father had been a useless clod as well, afterall.

"You don't remember them turning up at ours in the middle of the night?" Patrick asked "How many locks they had on their doors? Ivan covered in bruises and not being able to go to school?"

Arthur shook his head. Thinking about it, he could vaguely remember all these things, but he had never thought anything of it. Looking back, he could see how off it was.

"Ivans father is in prison." Patrick told him bluntly "For life. For murder. Katyusha gave evidence against him. You guys were about 11, so I'm not surprised you don't remember, but her telling the jury about him beating his wife and son was what it took to convince them to never let the bastard out."

What? Why was Arthur just hearing about this now?! Ivan had never mentioned it, did he even know?

"Who did he kill?" Arthur asked.

"I don't know." Patrick admitted "Some woman he took home, doesn't really matter. What worries me... you know, I work with a lot of damaged kids, so I know that it doesn't take much for the abused to become the abuser, and Ivan-"

"Ivan's never hurt anyone." Arthur interrupted certainly "He's never laid a hand on me, or anyone for that matter."

Patrick examined him closely, sucking on his teeth. After a moment, he just nodded.

"Okay." he said finally "If that's what you say, that's enough."

* * *

"Are you kidding me? Ivan's a complete psychopath!"

"Well, what would you suggest, then?"

Gilbert, not having a job at the moment, had been roped in to helping out in the kitchen the moment he set foot into _Carriedos_. He wasn't as good a cook as Antonio, but could slice and dice vegetables with the best of them, and his presentation was perfect to a tolerance of fractions of millimetres. The two men danced around each other between the flaming stove, chopping board, sink and plating area as they discussed Gilberts idea.

"I don't like Ivan." Antonio agreed as he sautéed the chicken and tomatoes "But I don't hate the kid either. Your plan is too much."

"Well, we gotta do something!" Gilbert insisted as he spread the purée over the plate with the back of his spoon "He's not good enough for Arthur!"

"Who is?" Antonio pointed out, jumping over to the oven and pulling out the bread "We gotta let him make his own mistakes!"

"There's mistakes and there's mistakes!" Gilbert argued as he sliced up carrots and cabbage "You know Ivan's gonna find out eventually, we need to have a plan in place to deal with it. You know-"

"Ivan's not his father." Antonio interrupted sternly.

"Yeah, when he's sober."

Gilbert rung the bell, the waitress appearing instantly to take the plates away into the restaurant, but the two couldn't relax yet.

"We need to have to plan for this!" Gilbert insisted again as he went back to the chopping board "How would you feel if you found out your fiancé was being harassed by her boss?"

"I'd murder him." he knew right away.

"Well, there's no way Ivan would take it out on old Wang!" Gilbert knew "Arthur's going to be the one to suffer for this – we have to break them up before he finds out!"

"I spoke to my brother in the city." Antonio revealed "The one Feliciano lives with."

"Who?"

"Romanos brother."

"Oh, right."

"I told him about Arthur – he says he's got a spare room, and there are more jobs in the city. If we act before the end of the month, we can even transfer him to the university there. He can finish up his degree away from this mess and have some time away from Ivan."

"Toni, that's brilliant!" Gilbert enthused "That's just what we need!"

"Now we just need to convince him to go." Antonio pointed out "Arthur's never been away from Hetalia more than a couple of weeks, plus there's Francis and the twins to think about."

"We can handle those lot!" Gilbert knew "That's one kid per adult – we're all over that!"

"Order table twelve!" one of the waiters called.

Antonio put on his serious face as the orders flooded in, Gilbert swearing loudly as he tried to to slice the vegetables and not his fingers.

* * *

Feliks had noticed that Francis was out of sorts, not his usual flirty self, so let him go home early. He was a pretty understanding boss, even though he pouted fabulously when Francis didn't tell him what the trouble was. Needing to clear his head, Francis went for a walk along the riverbank: it was too crowded at home for him to really get his head around anything. He loved having his friends around, of course, but living in a house full of adult men was a little different than sharing with a couple of rowdy kids. He felt claustrophobic, pent up, and needed some air, but there was nowhere to be alone in the town of Hetalia – everyone knew everyone, and all the establishments belonged to... belonged to _that man_.

Francis sighed, feeling old as he remembered when all the roads and houses around the river had been fields. This place... it wasn't the Hetalia he knew. The Hetalia he knew was friendly, was safe, was a place for families, but this place... this was a place where his little brother got molested by his boss, where said boss was then stabbed 8 times, where little boys committed suicide. He didn't like this Hetalia, and wanted the old one back, the one where Arthurs biggest problem was getting into scuffles and he didn't had to worry about letting the twins go to the park by themselves.

With a deep, tired sigh, Francis sat down on the riverbank, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting up. He wanted to move. He could sell his house pretty easily now that it was done up. His mother would throw a complete fit, of course, especially since he would want to take the twins with him. Where would he go? To the city? To another small town? How long would it take him to find work? How would he get Arthur to leave Hetalia and disappear with him? He wouldn't get to see his friends often, but if it meant he could get a good nights sleep then it was worth considering.

Drinking himself into a stupor was probably the wrong way to handle the situation, and thanks to that the Kirklands now knew what was going on – he saw the lack of respect in Arthurs eyes when he bought the twins home that night, the disappointment, and his heart was absolutely shattered by it: he had spent so long earning Arthurs trust and respect as a kid, as a teenager, and it had all disappeared in that one night.

Arthur had wanted Francis to step up, to take charge, to be the big brother, and he had let him down. That look of disappointment was going to haunt him far more than any mental image of what Yao Wang may have done. His friends had been spectacular, something to truly be proud of, but at the same time he was furious with them – they hadn't told him. They knew and they hadn't told him. If they had known for even a minute and not told him then he would have been angry, but they had known for... for how long? Days? Weeks? He couldn't forgive that.

He knew he was dwelling on that betrayed feeling, rather than dealing with what was going on with Arthur. He knew he was making it about himself, and he hated himself even more for that. He couldn't deal with this. He didn't know how.

He jumped a little as a body sat on the grass beside him. Katyusha smoothed her smart skirt under her legs as she sat down, sighing deeply as she stared at the river. They were familiar enough with each other that they didn't have to speak right away, and let a weary silence hang between them. He offered her a cigarette, but she shook her head, sighing again. She hugged her knees as they stared at the water.

"I don't know what to do." she said finally.

"You and me both." he admitted.

"I never imagined my life could be this much of a mess." she mumbled "I'm completely trapped."

"I know how you feel."

"I don't think you do."

Francis finally took a good look at her: she was pale, and her usually well-tailored clothes were baggy and creased. She must be having a hard time as well. He shuffled closer and put his arm supportively around her shoulders: without looking, she leant into him.

"I thought I had planned for every eventuality." she told him "I thought I knew exactly what the future held: I was going to get married to a man who doesn't drink and have a couple of kids no more than three years apart. We would go on camping holidays and to the beach in the summer. Ivans marriage would probably fail, but he'd be a good uncle and find someone better suited for him. Natalya would go to university and get her degree and find a nice man... I don't know anything anymore. None of that's going to happen now."

"My dear, you don't know that." Francis assured, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze "I'm certain you'll find a nice man who doesn't drink and having a couple of adorable blonde children no more than 3 years apart."

He paused as she snorted with laughter, and couldn't help but smile himself.

"I've never known an woman work harder to get what she wants than you." he went on "You started with nothing, and now look at you! Business manager, home owner, no woman in the world looks better in a pencil skirt!"

"Alright, Casanova, enough with the sweet talk." she laughed, smacking his chest lightly with the back of her palm "Thanks, though."

"What's got you so down, my lovely?" he asked, glad to be presented with a problem that wasn't his.

Katyusha huffed through her nose, and Francis could feel her shoulders tensing.

"Natalya." she explained gravely "She's got herself in trouble."

"She's pregnant?"

"If only it were that simple." she bemoaned "I'd know how to deal with that. This... I have no idea what's going on, Francis, but I just know it's not going to end well. I don't what to do, but doing nothing's going to be worse."

It was Francis' turn to sigh. He could really sympathise with her, but much like her, he didn't really want to talk about it.

"I know how you feel." he told her "I feel like I need to get out of his place, move away and disappear some place new. But what if I did? Where would I go? It feels like even that wouldn't stop my problems from following me."

Katyusha looked up at him, examining his face carefully before speaking.

"So you know about Arthur?" she asked carefully.

Francis' heart leapt in his chest, and not in a good way. Katyusha pulled a horrid expression when she saw the shock on his face, grabbing his shirt as he took his hand off her shoulder.

"Francis-"

"How long did you know?" he rasped, barely able to get the words out "You of all people..."

This was too much. How many people knew? Was he the last to find out?! Who else knew?!

"I only found out after!" she swore, clutching his shirt and pleading with her eyes for him to believe her "If I had any idea-!"

"After? After what?!" he yelled.

"After Natalya-!" she caught herself, shrinking back and looking everywhere but at him "After the stabbing." she corrected quietly.

Francis' heart stopped beating, and a horrid stillness engulfed him.

"Natalya?"

"No!"

Katyusha started to shake, opening and closing her mouth with no words coming, her dark blue eyes starting to water.

"Natalya didn't!"

"She did." Francis knew "Did Wang?"

"No, never!" she nearly screamed "It was just Arthur!"

She stopped when she realised what she was saying, using the hand that wasn't clutching his shirt to cover her mouth.

"Oh, God." she whimpered "This is such a mess."

She dissolved into tears, shoulders heaving as she sobbed. Francis couldn't believe... His mind was blank. Natalya had...? What a fine mess they found themselves in. Neither of them had answers, or even ideas, or anything to say. So much for being the older siblings. Something in Francis broke, and just couldn't handle any more. He wrapped his arms around Katyusha, holding her tighter than he had ever held a woman before, and the two of them cried together, alone on the riverbank.

* * *

No-one's actually asked what happened to Ivans father (because really, who cares?), or why after all this time Katyusha still had such extreme locks on her doors - well, now you know! While I've mentioned that Katyusha and Francis have 'kitchen talks' before, I'm not sure if I've ever out them in a scene together before.

I'm still kind of sick, so I'm really tired and can't think of anything else to say. Your reviews might make me feel better *cough*


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